Mornings, when I’m not fully awake, when the
promise of the day beckons and the world has a hushed, dreamlike quality, are
my favourite time of day. I sit in my cosy chair by the window in the kitchen,
clasping a large steaming mug of hot coffee, watching the sun rise above the
row of pine trees along the back lane. I relish these quiet moments as I gather
my thoughts before the approaching day, with its pressing demands, impinges on
It’s in these moments I am genuinely grateful for
the many blessings I have in my life; food in my belly, clothes on my body, and
a roof over my head. When I think of the wars taking place in many parts of the
world today, writing fiction seems an indulgence. But yet...
the kitchen's a mess,
the dishes are not done,
but I sit writing.
As far as my WIP goes, I’m on the read aloud edit which
I’m really enjoying, and a title is emerging. Yeah! Writing my novel is the most important endeavour,
and has to take priority. Despite the struggles and dramas involved in writing,
I find creating and inhabiting a fictional world is a deeply fulfilling
These days much of my time and head space outside
of my WIP is spent on research about marketing - what achieves results and what
doesn’t - particularly with regard to ebooks. As always with the internet
there’s a plethora of information, and for every piece of do this, there’s an
alternative opinion. The result is I’ve gained more knowledge, but am no wiser.
When I first started blogging, (Feb. 2013) I posted
twice a week, but after three or four months this schedule ate too much of my
writing time, so I reduced to a weekly post, which I’ve managed to maintain –
though I’m not sure how. However, recently that pressure is building again, and
as the activities surrounding the writing increase, I’m considering posting
less often. Or maybe varying or changing the format, content or direction of
the blog. I wonder if I’m running out of enthusiasm for blogging, but it’s more
that I don’t have time to write a quality post, and don’t want to shove
anything down. I have the utmost admiration for those bloggers who post
regularly and have done so for years, but I’m not sure this is my route.
The trouble is blogging is addictive and I find it
adds spice and variety to the working week; writing, posting, and responding to
comments are more instant than writing and publishing a book, and that
interaction is real and to be valued.
No matter what occupation or status we have in
life, we have to choose what works best for us, and for me, although my novel is
my main concern, promoting what I write is eating up more time than I’d like.
And something will have to give. So this week it’s a short post, and I leave
you with a poem written as a response to a prompt that requested using a cliché
as a starting point – I’m sure you’ll spot mine!
Inside imitation suns shed lambent light
on floorboards glossy with beeswax;
gilded mirrors poise on walls,
serene musicians seat themselves,
striking chords, plinking and plonking
till orchestral harmony arrives.
Outside the warm sun simmers the earth,
orchids raise their hearts;
a light breeze disperses summer fragrances
of rainforest rosewood and jacaranda
on sea kissed skin.
Dancers float in,
toes pointed, backs like boards,
arms extended, heads erect.
Dresses revealing tastes of honey,
Arrowed jackets and trousers.
eyes spark in expectancy
as adrenaline streams through limbs
and partners sensuously synchronize,
I’d love it if you checked out my debut novel, One Summer in Montmartre, or popped over to Wattpad and read any of
my posted stories... just click on the links to the right.
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Thanks for visiting my blog, and please do leave a
To all story lovers out there, good reading, and to
those of you who write, good writing.