Island Life, Word Birds & Process
‘… to be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating.’
Thursday’s new moon slipped in under my radar. What with one book thing and another, I’ve been preoccupied & not kept up with Lady Lunar’s activity. I do love a new moon though – time to make a fresh plan (I’m an Aquarian – we love a plan.)
My latest one involves diligent routine & writing every day. With Snow Sisters safely out in the world it’s time to settle in & concentrate on the next book. This is a time of genuine renaissance for me. Inside my head the stories are piling up, begging to be written. I’m too motivated to do anything other than knuckle down, listen to my word birds & keep up.
There’s nothing on earth as creatively exciting as falling headlong into a new story. The same terror grips – can I do it again? I’m beset by the same moments of insecurity but I’m back in my favourite place: looking out on the changing, shifting Welsh sky. Book 3 unfolds in a muddle of randomness (my usual modus operandi.) My brave word birds refuse to be put off by the wild weather. Between us, we have another tale to tell.
This time I’m embracing the mantel of Welsh Gothic my editor generously & unexpectedly conferred on me at the launch for Snow Sisters. Set on the bleak Welsh hinterland, this story has a ghost no one can see, sisters who don’t know they are & a lady mechanic who is anything but a lady.
* Gustave Flaubert