What a year!
What a year it has been!
In so many ways…
When I’m writing a new novel, I usually try not to read any hist.fict because I have a fear of literary osmosis, but it’s so hard as I have such wonderful writers to read. Fortunately none are in my timeframe, so that’s a blessing! But I am still cautious…
This marvellous review of Tobias came my way from the USA this week on Amazon.com.
Tobias, the book and the character are thrilling and a bit mysterious. One word description: magical. My recommendation for reading this big view of a little man as a strong example of loyalty is made with hardy enthusiasm. Here is why…
Street libraries have become the libraries of the day as shortsighted governments close down libraries or shorten the operating hours.
The first one I ever heard of was when writer SJA Turney told me about the red phone box in the village of Kirklington, North Yorks and which was filled with books…
After that I noticed every country seemed to have their version.
And on the radio the other day, I heard about the Liverpool Street Library in Hobart and thought ‘Oh good, Hobart’s catching up!’
Imagine the surprise then, when driving down a coast road, I spotted this! The Retro Library!
Of course it required investigation and I found a great selection of books and magazines.
It has a window with a view over the beach too.
And a seat to sit and read in between gazing at the view.
I suspect the owners of the Retro bus stop sign have built the Retro library and I say more power to their foresight!
May it please many readers through this summer.
In the past when my kids were young, it was decorated when they got home from school with Christmas music playing and the first fruit mince pies of the season to eat as we hung tinsel and baubles.
Now, I do it at whatever time of the day I want. Just me and Dog – he sniffs the decorations as they are unpacked and then looks on as I hang this and that. Finally we stand back, look at each other and … go for a walk…
One of my favourite walks is not far from House – perhaps two or three kilometres. I get my husband to drop the dog and I off along the coast and I walk back along the shore, over white sand and rocks, past beach cottages locked up until the next long weekend or Christmas…
Further to the view that identities shift and change depending on circumstance – an idea aired in the previous post , I sat and thought more about my own situation, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that I began to acknowledge myself as a writer…
As an addendum to the last post, I have thought a lot about reinvention lately as I talk to younger folk than I about taking life by the short and curlies and making it your own…
In a recent interview, I was asked whether I visited the sites in my stories. Living in Australia, I’m many air-miles from the sites about which I write, and the cost of visiting those places annually would send me into debit rather than credit with my friendly financial institution.
So…
What to do?
