I took the bag load of books back to my little coastal library the other day and I reflected on how lucky I was to have such a sweet library in my favourite place in the world. Better still, after watching North and South the other night, how surprised was I to see a copy of Mrs.Gaskell’s book on the fiction shelves under G for Gaskell . . . and this is a library that services at peak times, under a thousand people.
It’s true! There is going to be a Masked Ball here in May. Held by the Museo Director and with a guest of honour, Dr.Tobias Google. It will be glittering and glamorous and I can’t help wondering if there will be an appearance by the Others, just like in The Last Stitch. I’ve heard there will be prizes during the evening and the most delectable supper . . . and of course we will have the pleasure of the company of our escorts, won’t we?
I have heard a whisper . . . have you? That there may be Masked Ball (virtual)on this site in April or May? It’s only a whisper, mind, and may not be true. But I heard the invitation was to come from the Directore of the Museo in Veniche, in Eirie .
Perhaps I was under a stone, or on another planet or at the very least in solitary confinement (something I do enjoy, actually), when the BBC’s adaptation of Elisabeth Gaskell’s North and South was released. Amazingly I was not all that familiar with Elisabeth Gaskell’s writings. At secondary school and university it had been Dickens, the Brontes, Jane Austen, George Eliot, Xavier Herbert, Joseph Conrad and Thomas Hardy among many others. Heavy, dour books to be reading when one was in the spring, nay, the summer of one’s life. Hardy’s brooding rural settings, Bronte’s even more stormy settings and Dickens who portrayed it as it was so to speak, was enough to drive a young, fancy-free student far from the serious and into the positively tacky. http://readingthepast.blogspot.com/2010/02/tackiness-extraordinaire
I’m back at the shack, staggered in with a supply of the cooking from the other day, with a supply of wine (naturally), with the computer and some files, with the dogs and with my overnight bag. The overnight bag is never for overnight, I am rarely here overnight . . . days at a time usually and thus the bag contains underwear and a sponge bag. Shack clothes are left here . . . you know, the faded denim shorts and jeans, the old polo-shirts, the beaten-up boat shoes, the white wind-cheater that is so loved that it’s worn at the neck and wrists. So why then does the overnight bag weigh a tonne?
“Often, a suggestion by the editor is a light-bulb moment, when you suddenly realise what’s wrong with the book. A light-bulb moment is a wonderful thing and even if the publisher later turns you down, you will have improved your book.
Cooking today, no time to blog, let alone to pursue the actual craft of writing a book. Coffee slice, chocolate cupcakes, zucchini tart, chocolate cookies. And homemade pasta sauce for the freezer.
Have to go, the oven timer is beeping . . . talk tomorrow, byeeeeee!!!!!
I was reading Book Blogs today and came across a list that a blogger had written: 10 Places to Read. I was staggered. I love reading but there’s no way I could make a list of ten places in which I read.
This week, Feb 10, on Writer Unboxed, Anne Aguirre discussed the hero vs. the anti-hero. And it fitted in with my thoughts when I saw how many people had visited my blog after mentioning Richard Armitage and including a shot of him as Guy of Gisborne. Patently the anti-hero is alive and well.
Inspiration is, to an artist, the air we breathe. It sustains us, suffusing us with ideas. I’ve talked before about the things that inspire me to write a story . . . a piece of stitching, a paperweight, a length of cloth, a pocket globe. Once in the distant past it was a tiny brass ball I found in my grandfather’s tool shed (which I’ve since lost, but imagine the quidditch snitch and you can see what I mean). Heavens’ knows what Pa’s little brass ball was. Whatever it was, more than anything it was inspiration.