It can be strange to think of a writer as a person that you can speak to.
As someone who writes and would love to be published one day (*fingers crossed*) I like to know about the process. As a reader I like to know that my favourite authors are doing well. I generally like to know that writing is happening.
I’ve found social media to bridge the gap a little between writer and reader. I follow my favourite authors on Facebook and Twitter if they’ve got them and I’ve been reading writer’s blogs for years.
The first time I ended up having a conversation with one of my favourite writers that wasn’t strictly about their writing I was in a bit of a daze afterwards.
Did that really happen? Did this amazing author just care about my opinion?
Well, she did (in that moment anyway) and it was delightfully odd.
I always imagine writers to be very busy people and they definitely are but they don’t live in solitude.
I don’t imagine by any means that every writer welcomes being contacted by people they don’t know – I sometimes imagine it to be similar to when the person standing next to me at the train station strikes up a conversation about the weather. There are different levels of ‘okay’ – but some people like that moment of connection and it doesn’t have to be more than that.
Despite my love of reading I’ve never really gone to book signings or festivals – possible because I’ve always lived in a town which, despite behind reasonably big especially for the UK, isn’t known for having a ‘bookish’ reputation. The bigger cities tend to host a lot of that sort of thing and it’s a bit of a trek to get to anywhere like that from where I live.
I don’t have as many chances to talk about books or my writing face-to-face nowadays – possibly a leading factor into why I started this blog – because when you leave university etc. everyone tends to become rather busy. I’m proud of my friends, it would be impossible not to be, but my world can become rather small when I have time to realise that it’s been days since I’ve spoken to anyone but the people I live with.
I’m starting (I hope) a guest/interview blog that I’m going to try and post once a month, possibly on every last Saturday. I’m not sure exactly what the first blog will be but I’ll try and prompt something really good for the end of this month.
I’m pretty excited at the thought and, running on a theme, it’ll probably surround the written word in some way (although if I can convince some of my visually artistic friends to show off I will share). Hopefully this will be a recurring feature and I would love for it to work out.
I had the opportunity to take a walk around Waterstones in town on Monday and I finally got my hands on Ally Carter’s newest book ‘Take The Key And Lock Her Up’. It’s the third book in the series and I’m only about halfway through because I like to take my time whenever I read an Ally Carter novel for the first time. It never feels like I can read slowly enough to draw out the experience. I’m definitely not going to give the book a review before I finish every page but I’m far from disappointed so far. As for the first couple of books, the Embassy Row series is very dramatic and extremely serious at times as well as being beautifully written.
The poetry, one poem per day, for this month is going well so far. They’re all short pieces so far and I might put them all in one blog post at the end of this month but I’d like to post today’s poem now like I did on the first of the month.
Curl up and dream of gain,
Winter Child who has lost,
but is not lost.
Forget about the Spring,
despite the evidence of thaw,
just rest, Winter Child.
You are in the hollows
and you are the icy wind
which teases and taunts.
You steal the only warmth
worth stealing in the night.
Winter Child, warmth is fleeting
as the chill is not what you feel
it is what you are.
Rest, my dear snowflake.
Sleep, my Winter Child.
I will sing you a lullaby.