The vernal equinox. A magical, witchery day, when worlds are closer and the barriers between them thinner. Also, here in the northern hemisphere, on the continent of Europe, a time when the days are getting longer and warmer. A good day. This morning I have crafted a decent number of Read more…
The following was originally posted on my Not A Travel Writer sub-tumblr. As tumblr dies following its ridiculous self-destruction, I have decided to correlate all my previous posts, from several places, here. It makes sense and, crucially, means I own my content. In theory, it also means it cannot be Read more…
Last week I posted a very short ghost story, rather than the longer blog I had intended to share. All that piece needed was some final editing, some smoothing and perhaps a spot of gentle carving, but that was it. Unfortunately I ended up with some sort of virus, a heavy cold that moved down to my chest. Not a problem for writing, thought I. But I was wrong.
As soon as I started the final edits I realised that it was not only my nose and throat that were congested, but my brain and, especially, my word-gland that had also become infected. Simple things became a challenge, words would not spell themselves (I never use a spell-check until the final posting), grammar became tricksome, whole sentences would suddenly lose their way and meander into dark and dank places. The screen, despite being dimmed, was making my head hurt and this, coupled with a cold burning behind my eyes, made me pause.
I probably coughed a little, maybe felt a little sorry for myself, then stopped editing. Instead I posted the ghost story in true Blue Peter fashion; “Here’s one I made earlier.”
Flexibility is something I have only realised the true value of this year. In the past I would have pushed on, Taurean stubbornness convinced I could embroider with a spear, or carve a chess piece with an axe (actually, thinking about it, I might be able to do the second one — axe carving can be surprisingly subtle and delicate at times). When all failed I would brood. (I could win prizes for brooding — I am wont to gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirths, as Howard described Conan possessing.)
I am in Edinburgh for a day more before I retreat back into the north once again. One of the beautiful things about currently living at the top tip of Scotland is that spring is later there – the trees were only just unfurling as I left, just over a week ago, the first crop of fluffy, yellow-gaped sparrowlings only just emerging from beneath the eaves and behind gutters.
Having a late spring is no bad thing when one can always travel south to advance the seasons. Down here in the capital things are further along, summer is a guest rapidly approaching, the sun carrying warmth, battling with the chill wind. Soon she will win and time will move along, in the direction it is most known for. (more…)
Spring! It has indeed arrived, the sun has risen, hidden behind sister moon, reappeared bravely to warm us, then hidden once more behind rain and wind and cloud. Then appeared again. Such is the nature of Scottish weather, all seasons are perfectly capable of adopting the other three, welcoming them into their fold before once more casting them off. I love this — being prepared becomes second nature when you live up here.
The sky gave a great view of the eclipse, here’s a photo of mine to prove this statement:
Today I am having a “day off”. This is not the same as a day off, which is an entirely different kettle of fish. A “day off” involves little work on my fiction. Instead I channel my creative energy (and lack thereof) into other endeavours. Today I am continuing to Read more…