bury a secret in the centre of the garden - plant a tree on top. burn a candle each night, use the wick to spark flames in the new fireplace. cut wood from the tree, burn it and start to unmask the garden's secret.
twenty languages live in this house. they whisper to each other, live. google translate sits open in a tab, flicking through a myriad. books line the shelves, tell each other secrets, sharing knowledge - to be learned.
the windows dominate the room. it's no accident; i had the room designed this way exactly for that purpose. it's kind of a small room, not unlike the fabled attic at the top of the tower, but it suits me exactly. four years ago, when i collected a few bags of notebooks and canvases, crammed… Continue reading the forest cottage (400)
ideas weaving together spilling into a river. together they form inspirations. it's kind of a dream. coming true minute after minute. together there's a barrier stopping them in place. go to write - fingers are slack around a pen, unfocused and lax on a keyboard. (it's purely psychological right?)
skimming fingers over keyboards tapping in ideas. typing, typing faster - keeping up with an i n f l u x of ideas. and herein lies the trouble: being in strange enough a mood to write.
Today, I'm thinking about NaNoWriMo. Chiefly, I'm thinking about the burnout that can occur if you batter your keyboard too long and too often. Maybe you've sat down, cracked open a can of your favourite drink and a fresh Word Document on November 1; then you gulped down that drink like it was giving you inspiration… Continue reading NaNoWriMo: Inspiration Creek Runs Dry
So I have nothing to do right now and my inspiration is dry. Drier than the clothes I pulled from the clothes dryer. I blame the current state of tedium on the fact that it is Saturday, and I also note the sheer lack of inspiration I seem to have on Saturdays - I recall… Continue reading The Jar: Request for Prompts