Lately I’ve had a few of my darling smartykat followers contact me and say, “Where are you?”, “Where have the posts gone?”, “I want mooooooore!”, so I thought I better pull my finger out of my butt…on hole and give you all a bit of an update. Never fear, smartykat is ALWAYS here, just not necessarily always in her blogging form. Here’s what’s been taking up S.K.’s time:
Yes, I’m still plugging away at my debut novel and yes, I’m still absolutely loving the process. Continue reading
image by jordianne
Every now and then I find myself feeling quite nostalgic and reminiscing on the past few years or so; on the people I’ve met, the adventures I’ve been on and the things I’ve learnt… in books! Today I thought I’d share with you my 5 great book loves. These are the books that have kept me alive, afloat and breathing. These are the books for which I live. Continue reading
I get the impression that even though my family and friends know that I’m a writer, they don’t really have any idea what I do. The same goes for my readers. I’d imagine some of you think I’m cooped up all day “in a room of my own” with a pot of tea, a pen and a pad of paper; others that I just frequent cafes, sipping coffee and pondering my existence and perhaps a small minority of you just think that I’m a wanker who sits around all day wanking my proverbial writing muscle (whatever that is).
The reality of it is, my life is nowhere near as romantic, tranquil or indulgent as you may think. Continue reading
Three hours of my day today were spent sitting in a waiting room, blowing through a mini toilet roll one minute in every thirty, and then twiddling my thumbs for the remaining twenty-nine. No, I wasn’t caught driving after a few cheeky martinis – I was having a breath test of a different kind: a hydrogen breath test in an attempt to work out whether the wackiness of my gut owed to an intolerance to lactose (and yes it did!). But more of that another time.
Speaking of time, I obviously had a lot of it and being a writer, my mind turned to writerly things, one of which was the novel I’m working on (more of that another time too). Before I could even test out my novel’s waters with a sneaky little ankle dip though (my characters and plot have a life of their own – I never know how I’m going to find them from one day to the next) a pang of intense ‘something indescribable’ hit me in my gut and chest simultaneously – and no, it wasn’t a reaction to the test. It did, however, knock the hydrogen right out of me and left me feeling kind of… empty… no, hollow. Just like a little toilet roll but I wasn’t hollow with air. I was hollow with something else; something far more tangible and affecting. A something that ran so deep within me it had paralysed me. Literally (I couldn’t get off the waiting room couch to get a drink of water).
photo by Juan Pablo González