Just like Magic

Inspiration I find is just like magic, mysterious and full of surprises. It can come from absolutely anywhere, and when it hits you, that feeling that buzz, theres nothing quite like it. Especially the excitement as your fingers hit the keys filled with the energy of all the new possibilities opened up to you. Recently I had the wonder of inspiration and magic combined. I went to the highly reccommended house of illusion in the beautiful town of Salou, Costa Dorada, Spain for their evening show as a treat with my lovely husband. The pre show magic made me instantly smile, full of wit and humour. I was never a fan of card magic but this particular gentleman had the balance of magic and entertainment on a perfect scale. My mind began buzzing under the surface, anticipation building for the rest of the evening. As I sat in the audience, bouncing in my seat just as excited as I was when a child, I heard a voice, the compare of the evening introducing the show. I was mesmerised instantly. Words hold such a magic of their own and when so eloquently and beautifully delivered they can bring magic to a whole new level. As I listened to his hypnotic voice talk about the mysteries and endless possibilities of magic, my brain started to tick. Its something I find I can’t control and once something captures my imagination the writer in me hijacks my brain and i’m just along for the ride. As each of the magicians, these mystery men began, it soon became apparently clear they were all different,...

The Perfect Bubble

I see people talk about writing, where they write and fitting in writing where they can. I dont know whether they can just turn on writing like pulling on a light switch, but for me I can’t. I mean I can write words on a page, but for my words to really flow and me to feel that buzz of writing and creating something new that I’m proud of it cant just be done anywhere at anytime, something that annoys me greatly.   Mornings – Writing in the morning is a big no no for me. A natural night owl, who tends to melt at the thought of pulling myself from my pit, I struggle with the basic concepts of walking, talking and feeding small children let alone writing. Writing on the go – The time I’d love to write the most, when all my ideas come to me, is when I’m driving. Unfortunately I think that may be slightly illegal and so I refrain from the urges, as much as it kills me to do so. Writing with children – Being a mother is often referred to as a full time, I feel it is a morning, noon, night and every second in between job, and every time I’d try to get into the flow if writing I can guarantee i’d hear those angelic tones of distraction shouting “Mommy! can you play with us?” and who could say no to that!   So due to the fact I need to be in the right space mentally to write the way I want to, my perfect bubble, i’ve developed...

A ‘real’ writer

I’ve been thinking a lot lately. It’s quite a painful process actually, I try and avoid thinking as much as possible, day dreaming is so much less taxing on my jumbled brain. But from time to time I do think about things, my life, my aspirations, what to have for dinner. There’s a multitude of possibilities for my brain to delve into. One thought that keeps returning and niggling at me though is, “Am I a real writer?” I’ve wrote about it before and it may seem like a really random question with a simple answer to some, I write so therefore I am a writer, but in a world of judgement and labels and shiny awards, I often ask myself do I measure up to the job title. I am not a traditionally published author. What that means is a publishing house hasn’t printed and distributed my books throughout the kingdoms of the world. I am currently whats referred to as a ‘self published’ author which means I write, print, distribute and promote my own books. Now that doesn’t mean they aren’t checked, edited, designed and printed professionally like traditionally published books are, in fact I take a lot of time and pride ensuring my stories are to the highest standard both reading wise and visually aswell. I have editors that ensure my work actually makes sense, and I’ve spent several years promoting my work, even getting my books into Waterstones and various independent bookstores.   Then why, you might ask, do I think about whether I am a ‘real’ writer. The reason is, I think is there...

Blastoise, Penguin Suits and Tricycles

So many people say that they suffer from writers block, or struggle for inspiration. Ideas can be hard to find sometimes, especially ones with originality. Well I say look no further than the end of your nose! And today was a perfect example, of looking for all the stories just ready to leap out at you!   My youngest Squish, got her first bike today. Proud mommy moment and she couldn’t wait to try out her new wheels. All prepped with her retro shiny red tricycle, kitted out with helmet and gloves to match, my proud little Squish was soon on her way, racing round our local park.   Gentle stroll around the park, whilst participating in Squishes new found favourite past time ‘Pokemon hunting!’ Yes, I admit it we’ve been at it, our guilty pleasure of exercising and tracking down imaginary animals that we catch with small balls, that conflict with every animal welfare law going. Anyway I digress, squish was leading the way on her shiny new wheels, as I followed at a close pace. It was then that it happened.   “Are you looking for pokemon?”   Not a hello, or a how are you. I drew squish closer as this random male approached quite awkwardly with his opening line that was followed quickly by.   “If you want to follow me, I’ve found a really rare pokemon. It’s over there” he pointed “by the road, just next to that large blue van”   I felt like a small child being led away with the promise of sweets by a stranger. But yes I followed slowly...

The guilt of murder

Yes as the title suggests, I am openly admitting my guilt. It is eating me up inside and I just can’t keep it bottled any longer.   I am a murderer.   So far the total is at 3 but it could be as many as 6 or even more in due course. I must say the first was the hardest, I almost couldn’t bring myself to do it. But I did. It was for the greater good after all. The guilt is etching away at me though and with each subsequent murder that follows I find myself feeling more and more guilty and responsible. Well technically I am responsible of course, I murdered them, but i’m finding its bothering me more than it should. I mean its not as if  they’re actually real. Well to me they are real, I created them, but to the outside world they never really existed, not in physical form anyway.   Killing characters in any story can be necessary for plot development and progression. But these aren’t just characters on paper to me. I’ve nurtured them, i’ve supported them and i’ve watched them grow and flourish (figuratively speaking of course.) I feel a connection and loyalty to them as they’ve helped me grow and learn as a writer. We’ve had adventures together and we’ve conquered the impossible. So of course each time I kill one, I feel an immense wave of guilt, like I’ve cut one of my own limbs off (drastic I know, but true). You see when we write and we throw ourselves so fully into our writing we create...

Writing and Rambling

I write … a lot. In fact I write every night for many hours often falling asleep as the words form on the page. Most of my writing will never see the light of day, so why do I do it you may ask? Well there’s several reasons for it to be honest, but the first is my deep dark secret. I have an addiction. Yep you heard me, I have a problem. Not something most people would admit to, but yet here I am opening up to whoever is reading this opening admitting I have an issue. I am addicted to writing. It doesn’t actually matter what type of writing, the topic, the subject or the length. I just find myself writing in the strangest places, at the most awkward of times. On the school run, in the bath, making dinner, the urge just pops up and before I know it I’m scribbling away lost on a daydream losing myself on the pages. A lot of the time I’m not sure if it’s even classed as writing or rambling. But I know that it is a cathartic release that soothes my soul and helps empty my overflowing mind enabling me to to sleep at night. That isn’t my only reason for writing though. As I said a lot of my writing will never see the light of day, some of it may remain unfinished for eternity. But by allowing the words to flow freely across the page as I feel they need to, they create a web of expression and release enabling me to grow, learn and explore not...