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 …
Tag Archives: writing
Dorothy Dunnett, a writer’s masterclass
I have just finished another one of Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles. Do you read a book by her, or rather, eat it slowly, blindfolded, seeking to identify the ingredients that constitute its rich sauces? Each and every page there is cause to pause, to peel back the deceptive words for the hidden nuances that lie …
Just waiting for the plot to clot
I have come to a hiatus again. I don’t call it writer’s block. That makes it seem as though you can always be rattling the keys (or pushing the pen). As though writing fiction streams out like water through a pipe. You sit down, turn on the tap, write, then turn it off and go …
Speed Tourists
Today we were speed tourists. It might have been somewhat more leisurely had I remembered to turn left. But on we sailed until twenty minutes to the station became forty-five minutes. We arrived just as the train from Seville to Cadiz glided smoothly out of Santa Justa Estacion. We passed an hour in a frivolous …
Salatheel 