Sometimes it’s hard to be a writer…

My writing life

Has come to a dead stop, or at least slowed to a crawl. I haven’t even had an opportunity to write a blog. There are lots of clichéd excuses for this state of affairs, but I have to be truthful and say I haven’t had a writer’s block or a domestic crisis. If I’m going to blame anything it will be the weather. It’s been lovely for the last ten days and I’ve been out in the garden trying to get ahead of the weeds and keep up with growing plants and watering. So here I am at the key board once more and about to do something constructive.

I have managed to write a couple of poems about my visit to Donegal. One of these will be scrutinised by the other Brewery Poets on Friday, and the other is my offering for writing group tonight. In addition chapters five and six of my children’s book are with my readers, members of my writing group who are offering comments as it goes along. Chapter seven is a big rewrite and I suspect that’s why I’ve been putting it off.

Reading Week

I have abandoned most other reading this week to get through a second reading of Colm McCann’s Transatlantic, for the reading group yesterday. It’s a good page turner of a family saga following four generations of women back and forth across the pond. In includes real historical figures, which some members of our group found a weakness, whereas I enjoyed it. I have also been finishing off my chosen holiday read of the Paddy Meehan trilogy by Denise Mina. If you like crime writing you’ll like this well written witty and unflinching stuff. When you’ve read three good books in a row you always feel at a bit of a loss until the next one comes along.

Hare in the Headlights

No scary moments recently although that list of writing taks is still  long….

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