Winter
It’s just cold, windy, white, and barren. There’s less to say about the writing when every word has to be forced out, a slow drip…drip….drip …
It’s just cold, windy, white, and barren. There’s less to say about the writing when every word has to be forced out, a slow drip…drip….drip …
The librarian is gone. This is a sadder cut for me than the others—something about losing that scene where Frederick bumps into her on the …
The Tome has come back to me on the one month anniversary of my confinement. It looks fresh, inviting, alluring, seductive. It looks remarkably like …
Some amount of serious distraction has occurred over the past few days, for life-altering reasons (watch for an announcement in the coming weeks) but I’m …
I have reason to believe I’m getting close. Call it intuition. Call it corroboration (my reader sends back a favourable review.) Call it being crowded. …
The T-top business comes to an end, and again I am pleased. It seems that this week I am writing with much less anxiety. Tonight …
A late-getting-started day, a creation-avoidance day, a word-vacuum-of-a day. In the middle of the afternoon, finally getting down to writing about a drive through Toronto …
And today, four connected scenes have been created out of nothing but an image of graffiti on a bathroom wall. Today, writing seems so much …
I took the weekend off. I quit The Room. I ate baklava with my family. I walked on a rocky beach with my love. I …
The Tome has overtaken my faith in my capacity to make a coherent story out of bits of coloured paper. Six pounds of coloured paper …