Editing is an important part of the writing process. That’s why I sent my manuscript off to someone in the publishing industry. I don’t have an agent or publisher and I didn’t want to put something out there that wasn’t credible. My editor was to be my gate keeper and a window into how my book is seen by the… Read more →
I get this sudden terrifying thought that I’m going to die: a feeling of impending annihilation takes hold of me. It seems totally illogical because there is no actual physical threat. And it’s not a panicky fear either. It’s not like I’m so scared my head thinks it’s going to die. No. It’s as if, I unconsciously know my ego is… Read more →
So I’ve written a book. It was a hard slog showing up every day with a gaping chasm of a blank page staring at me. And spending ages hacking away at sentences to get them just right. Not to mention the years of getting the whole tone and voice totally wrong. So after nearly 19 years of putting it back… Read more →
This is the next chapter that I was hoping to read at the cancelled event in November. The narrative voice is changing. The plot moves on a little and I set up the first fall to/from Grace. It points towards Cannabis as being the original culprit in the whodunit of my so-called Psychosis. Cannabis skunk is so much stronger and more psychoactive than ‘normal’ weed. This is where a lot of readers may get stuck and imagine that the rest is all because of this. Maybe it is…maybe there’s more to come…
My questions is – is this a better place to start the book from? Is Chapter 1 necessary? Please let me know your view as it will help me construct the book so that it works best for you – dear reader! Let me know your thoughts…
Another musical extract that hasn’t been through the critique process for you this week.
“Back home I feel great. I put on a Nitin Sawhney album and stand in the middle of the room listening to the evocative sounds of the Indian instruments. A weird banjo like thing slides into a bluesy guitar. Then a male voice hums alongside a contemporary beat. A high female vocal in Hindi joins in, followed by a distant New York rapper.
“What do we do in these crazy times? I grab my synthetic white feather duster with a plastic handle and dance. A soulful woman’s voice takes the lead.
“Down by the river, Life flowing deeper, Tide growing stronger, No, you can’t hold can’t hold the river. The Hindi singer repeats her refrain between each verse bringing the sound of India into my living room. I stand with my feet wide apart and my hips pulse to the beat. There’s a strange pull in my lower belly, like a trickling stream made of air. The river is flowing through me.
“Inside my head I can hear it talking to me, Like the river to the ocean, I can feel it growing in me, And all day, all night, in the rhythm of the city, From the dusk to the dawn I can feel it flowing through me. I raise my right arm up to reach the cobwebbed corner above the stereo with the candyfloss like duster. A silky, liquid, golden, river of light flows from the handle to just below my belly button, where it is anchored. As I move the duster upwards, the ribbon grows longer to follow it. The gold is shimmering multi coloured, reflecting pink, purple and orange light like oil does on water. It looks like Computer Generated Imagery in a movie. I move my hand back towards me. Graceful folds take up the slack of the excess ribbon. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. They are perfectly spaced, sized and curved, the way a silken ribbon would curl and bounce.
“Down by the river, Life flowing deeper, Tide growing stronger, No, you can’t hold can’t hold the river. I dance on through to the kitchenclearing away the cobwebs. My body feels light and agile, a magical ribbon dancer.
“A jolt of fear rushes through me. What if I’m hallucinating? And the ribbon is gone.”