Don’t worry, I haven’t broken a habit of a life time and turned to drugs…far too busy trying to fit my writing life in with the full-time need to make a living. The fact is the writer’s life doesn’t just mean sitting back and waiting for fluffy little clouds of inspiration to come your way and then typing them up. And it doesn’t just mean doing that marketing thing either. Somewhere along the line a writer has to find some time just to be – not in a Hamlet sense, you understand – but what some might describe as “soaking up the atmosphere”.
For instance, I just had to visit the William Tillyer exhibition yesterday at MIMA If you haven’t been, it’s something of a must-see. There is quality art and culture outside London, and this guy really makes you think. Hurry, though, the exhibition finishes on 9th February.
Then there was the walk along the Cleveland Way, and time to pop into Musicport’s open mic Sunday afternoon music session at Whitby Pavilion. Some wonderful young talent there.
Now I’m in my writer’s head, and not my work head, I can stop to consider the recent small triumphs on the writing front, such as the inclusion of my short story The Boy Who Hid Beneath the Piano in Mardibooks exciting anthology The Clock Struck War
Then, of course, the wonderful Prole magazine, kind enough to take two poems, The Invention of Drawing and Deterring Pigeons in Issue 12
One or two other things in the pipeline, too, still under raps. And, as some of you may know, following encouragement from Miss Labels of The Review Board, who has posted a review of the original Flambard publication Vermin on Goodreads , I have now published the novella Vermin as an e-book, here. Which, as it happens, is also, on amazon.com.
Sunday night, and there’s still a short story to write, and the character for my new novel to develop…. who’s got time to go to work? I think I’d better start doing the lottery…