I love drawing inspiration from art, looking at the world's the artists created and finding my own stories from them.
I woke this morning to the exciting news that my piece, Number Seventy-Two, is the flash-fiction piece for the day on 365tomorrows.
A few years back I taught myself how to programme in Python and I'm always keen to find an excuse to use my coding. I've used Python a few different ways to help with my writing.
I woke this morning to some fabulous news. I won this week's flash fiction challenge over at Ad Hoc Fiction!
Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it... that's right, I'm talking about waking up in time to see the dawn!
It feels like I've been labouring over my second draft forever, stuck editing the same lines over and over again. Taking my freewriting, stream-of-conscious musings and shaping them into some sort of narrative. I wasn't moving forward, frozen on the same handful of scenes. So I came up with a few different ways to motivate myself:
Hopefully, you are familiar with the phrase 'correlation does not prove causation.' Roughly speaking, this means that two things might appear to be linked and that perhaps one even causes the other but in reality they have nothing to do with one another.
We're moving house! From a 2-bed to a 4/5-bed. I'm so excited because the really great news is that I'll finally have my own office and with that a space for my writing and crafting.
The book I'm writing at the moment is set thousands of years in the future, in an isolated community. If you look back only a few hundred years, English is very different from what it is today. In my book, I wanted to create a sense that English has evolved and moved on from it's... Continue Reading →
I've been thinking about the recent detection of gravitational waves in the Ligo detector. As with so many things I read, whilst i'm in the midst of creating a story, I tend to see everything through the prism of that lens. Ideas are drawn to the world I create like a magnet. Given that they... Continue Reading →
Baked nights crisped tarmac between hot sheets. and the open window letting white-scent static. Singed beef and sugared ripples, stank of half-grown stars. photo by lrargerich
The hardest thing about writing a novel or writing anything is that a novel will eat ideas like forest fires through trees.
I noticed this image on Reddit today, and it got me thinking about the whole system of colonialism. The man in the picture is Horatio Gordon Robley, sitting there with his collection of Mokomokai.
I've been struggling to write recently. I put it down to completing the two-year Creative Writing Program with New Writing South, and the burn-out from that. But I realised yesterday that I was stuck on two scenes at the end of the third-act (my story has five acts in total).
That's two books a week! You're going to need to get organised! Way, way back in 2012 I set myself the New Year's resolution of reading 100 books in the year. And not just any old books, those classics of literature that you tell yourself you'll read one day. Those mighty tomes, sitting up on your shelf, mocking you with their presence - Moby Dick, The Tin Drum, Anna Karenina, Ulysses.
In case you haven't heard, scientists have discovered evidence for a cosmic jet with the energy of a trillion lightning bolts.
In one of my previous jobs I did a lot of woodland surveying. Out all day long with just the trees for company in remote patches of woodland.
It's taken me a year, whilst juggling raising a baby, working freelance and attending the New Writing South Creative Writing Program, but my first draft is complete!