We are all social, in the end
Somewhere along the line, new writers were sold a spectacularly unhelpful lie: the idea that a first draft should emerge fully formed, like a flawless literary diamond sparkling with genius and smelling faintly of accomplishment. According to this myth, you sit down, flex your fingers, and poof! out pours a…
Life does not politely step aside to let you write. It barges in with laundry, work stress, sudden illnesses, broken appliances, and family members asking, “Are you still writing that book?” Writing during chaos requires flexibility and humour. This weekend I was running the Scout BBQ at a local village…
Every writer has a ritual. Some burn candles. Some listen to whale noises. Some summon the dark spirits of productivity. I, being a person of refinement and strong British constitution, rely on tea, a staple, a comfort, a crutch, and occasionally the sole reason I remain upright during revisions. Tea…
There is nothing quite as menacing as the blank page. Not spiders, not tax letters, not even an unexpected knock on the door when you’re wearing pyjamas at 2 p.m. A blank page has a particular smugness to it, as if it’s daring you to try something, anything, and reminding…
