It's Christmas and what better way to celebrate than by murdering a much-loved poem? So, with profuse apologies to Eleanor Farjeon, here goes. You may want to look away now...
Monday, 14 December 2009
I have a chip on my shoulder about creative writing training. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if it's actually a phobia. I've always been suspicious of the "right way" to go about writing a book and have often taken a deliberately wilful route through the maze. I guess this is called "making my own mistakes", although sometimes it feels like winding up the window and not asking for directions, even though my wife is shouting at me and threatening divorce.
Monday, 7 December 2009
I've found myself thinking a lot this week about what I enjoy about writing, often followed by an excess of sighing and "Oh why do I do it?" type statements to anyone in range. I spent hours and hours doing re-plotting yesterday and I think that is one of those things I do enjoy, the moment that the plot suddenly snaps into place. But more than that, the thing I find really satisfying is crafting the perfect metaphor. I've noticed them creeping into my blog posts recently and I hope that hasn't been distracting - I started off blogging with a deliberately plain voice and it has interested me how I've begun to develop a style over the last few months. Having a "blog voice" wasn't something I even considered, but I guess it is a process of writing to an audience like anything else. Oh, and just like fiction, I guess I'm still writing primarily for me!