in my pink lipstick — you chose
a beautiful death
Soon, in June, The Walk Home, a collection of haiku winnowed from my thirty years of writing in the world of haiku. Published by Alba Publishing.
… our world is shifting in the biggest and smallest of ways, every little movement having a ripple effect on the whole complicated web we call life on earth. I think a lot of us, individually, are shifting right now too, and many of us are contemplating creative changes, career changes, relationship changes, and personal changes that we wouldn’t have given a thought to only two short weeks ago.
Happy season to you, and a new haiku here
Been reading round a whole bunch of independent publishers, and having fun! What’s more, vicariously shoplifting. Must be something in the water, but two good 2019 reads feature shoplifting protagonists. Finer Things, by David Wharton, Sandstone Press — love that cover, takes me right back to the 1960s. That’s Delia, a real success at her career as a professional shoplifter, surviving the seedy underworld of London. We hope. Then there’s a cover with a green dress, Run, Alice, Run, by Lynn Michell, Linen Press. It’s our present times but ranges back to Alice’s first ever shoplift and the decades (and lovers) in between then and the mess of revived shoplifting she’s landed herself in.
So what is it about shoplifting? A tip I used when writing my novel now **agented**!! by InterSaga was: think of something your protagonist would NEVER do, totally out of character. Then have her do it. It wasn’t shoplifting. But… that tingle, that thumping heart, that daring to do something illicit.
It’s about doing it when events or emotions push you over the edge into what-the-hell. Like writing.
I’m in a peculiar state these days, one familiar to writers and artists. Liminal space is a term I’ve just learned from the book Whatever Happened to Barry Chambers*. It is a time in between, a time of knowing and not-knowing. One door is firmly shut behind me. The next door is right there — but not yet open. Whether it’s my completed novel, now being pitched by my Yes! agent InterSaga. Or another life changing event (think of arriving to start uni, think of late pregnancy with your first baby). No amount of anxiety or imagination can change what lies ahead… but it’s definite and it will happen.
A strange state of forced patience, of trying to just value this in between, moment by moment. ‘Without any irritable reaching after fact’ said Keats, coining the term negative capability. Which is a positive thing. In fact it’s what writing the next novel is all about. A blind plunge into the unknown, the blank page.
PPS — *By Barry Kay, the book is a memoir of a truly remarkable split upbringing.
Calloo callay it’s soon London Book Fair day, and yes I am going to the ball. Got a badge that says author and A Body of Knowledge on it… in case anyone asks. Meanwhile the sap is rising and I am getting to know two new characters in Next Book. I sit down — resisting, cross at the blank page — and start a scene with main character and new character. They talk, they come alive!
Crocus harbingers: spring show today in my front garden.