Words are such untrustworthy things. They cling to the edge of the impulse-to-live as it dies. Scavengers. Every moment of consciousness is a reflection of Descartes’ cogito ergo sum. So often the translation is I think, therefore I am. But thinking is so far removed from I, much better to translate it as I am …
Tag Archives: words
Creativity emerging part 2—Baby talk
I have a memory—which is, after all, only imagination labelled real—of being less than six weeks old. It came to me many years ago in the cradling that is approaching sleep, when we let go the reins of the world and sink into the hidden spaces. Awareness is a soft haze of colours. The darker …
Killing my darlings
I have an awful lot of words—a superfluity of them. Each one carefully crafted, mused over, lovingly cherished and laid down in long strings. My darlings! Do I really have to kill you?
The Style Police
In writing you can do anything you damn well please. The rule in my book, is to understand the rules, stick to them in general and then when you break them, do it with purpose and aplomb.
Words, the conduit of life
I was first awakened to language at the end of a game of Scrabble that I had gatecrashed. The actor, whose name now escapes me, but whose beautiful face, rests in partial lines in my memory, quoted a line from Hamlet, “and dawn her russet mantle spread”. I was 19, at drama school doing stage …
Salatheel 