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Plans

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  I like making plans. Maybe it’s having a lively imagination, so I can just imagine what the day might look like, or what would make the perfect holiday for a husband, four kids and a dog... Of course, I hold those plans loosely, at least at those moments when I think of the Letter from James in the Bible, but once plans are scuppered, it’s amazing to find how firm they had grown to be. My plan to write the third Elabi book in just a few months has been dragged out into almost two years. The end is in sight, but the excited (not-shared-with-anyone)plan of having it published the first week of May might have been too optimistic. It should definitely be out by next May, a much safer pan to hold! I struggle to plan my books, although I can imagine big chunks of the story. Sometimes I need to go back a little in the story and shake things up. It happened in book 3, the one I plan to publish soon. It made me so excited about the story, it’s hard to keep spoilers to myself, even though I wo
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Story from the past

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 'We always misunderstood ourselves and rarely understood others.' Oscar Wilde That quote could have been written for me, and perhaps for some of the blog readers here today. I suddenly feel the need to tell my story.  I was born a very long time ago, right at the end of World War 2. My father was in the Signals Corps and was one of the message-senders using morse code in Dover on D Day. After the war ended in Europe, he was sent out to the Far East to fight there. Years later I realised how much he had been damaged by his experiences - a childhood with a violent father, and as a sensitive young man conscripted at the age of 19. Then, four years later, he had very few days with my mother as his wife before he was sent away by the army again. I was born while he was in Burma. My mother lived in a small village in the Hertfordshire countryside. I can remember her chopping wood in the wood-shed in order to light the range every morning. I can remember the tap in the road where she
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Stymied, Snookered & Stuffed

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What do you do when you’ve run out of ideas, hit the wall and arrive at the unwelcome barricade we know as writer’s block? I’ve heard all manner of approaches to this: go for a walk, take a bath, do a jigsaw puzzle, make a cake, run away and join the circus, take up plumbing instead and enjoy a steady income at last etc.   In other words, do any number of things which are definitely not writing in order to allow your subconscious to chunter along on it’s merry way for a while until some inspiration leaks out into your consciousness again.   At that point you can shout, ‘Hallelujah’, dance a jig, crack open the bubbly, of whatever your preferred method of celebration may be. I think I’ve tried all of those things (no, wait; honesty compels me to say that so far I’ve neither joined the circus nor tried my hand at plumbing), plus praying of course, but would love some more ideas if you’re willing to share them.   For the most part they work pretty well – I’m clearly not in a position to
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Hidden Treasure - What do you see? by Christina Bywater

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  I love jewellery! In particular, rings. There’s a part of me that wants to give myself the freedom to wear more than one on each hand, but I know my mother would not approve! I hear her now - "less is more, Christina." Looking at a couple of particular rings that I have which I am especially grateful to own, it struck me that the gems which make jewellery so beautiful are usually hidden underground, have been subject to pressure and/or heat, are difficult to extract, and need careful, precise work on them to bring out their best. That very process is a joint venture between The Creator, and the created, both gem and human. It’s also true that it’s the way that each gem is cut and faceted which causes the light to pass through the stone and enhances its beauty; but that process entails the reduction of the original stone, and the removal of seemingly good material.  How does that mirror the writing journey?  Without Father God, there is no revelation,  no inspiration,  no be
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Turn it over! by Jane Walters

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Some of you may know that I have recently moved house. Again. (No one could accuse my life of being boring.) Every move brings its challenges, some in the same kinds of categories: settling in, sorting out; but this one feels different. For whatever reason, I am having the mother of all clear-outs. Things I have clung onto through every storm now seem redundant. Childhood relics still amuse, but even the book of terrible, terrible poems I wrote at the age of 10 has gone – laughingly assigned to the bin, along with my dream of them being posthumously viewed as the unlikely foundation of an illustrious career. I’m no Philistine, though, and this week I have attempted to salvage a tapestry I stitched during my first pregnancy. It never did become the fire-screen the pattern book promised; instead, it got caught up in a pile of other oddments of sewing, decaying quietly together. I don’t think any soap product could remove the damp stains, but as I gently and hopefully massaged the bubbles
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Running: An unlikely writing aid! by Nicky Wilkinson

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Running and writing have similarities: it’s a delirious dream when it’s going well, a nightmare to start up again and a dilemma, when midway, you run out of steam; wondering why on earth you ever thought this was a good idea? My writing practice is increasingly informed by my running one, because I am learning to be kinder to myself! On running days I anticipate my reluctance to exercise. Getting up, I don the neon Lycra kit and spongy shoes uniform. It consolidates my focus. An alarm goes off 15 mins before departure labelled; ‘Nicky: Go Run!’ It’s that irrefutable instruction to act that reminds me nothing has changed in my planning, only fickle feelings fidgeting in my mind to be ignored. Fill your bottle, set STRAVA ™, unlock the door - rain or shine here we go.  Post-fractured shoulder, caution persuaded me to experiment, mid-run with a pause. Previously, I would have pushed myself to the limits to get through the Porter Brook Valley: no hesitation, deviation or repetition as R
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The Beauty of Collaboration by Peculiar Medinus

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  “God bless you and your writing in 2024. Love, Melanie” That is the concluding part of the first email I received from my Association of Christian Writers (ACW) group leader this year. While I cannot share the full content to respect my group leader’s privacy, it was a heartfelt encouragement for my blog post in 2023. Reflecting on the support I've received since joining the group five years ago, what stood out was my leader's foreword to my book, "The Bunch: An Anthology on the Fruit of the Spirit." It beautifully captured the essence of collaboration, which is central to this blog. Writing might be a solitary act, but the end product often emerges from a web of connections, support, and shared ideas. In a digital age where self-publishing can make any writer an island, it's more important than ever to reacquaint ourselves with the value of community in our creative endeavours. Whether through peer feedback, joint publications, or supportive critique, collabo
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