It has been a difficult couple of weeks. Two weekends ago I was in London, having the time of my life, visiting an old friend, seeing the sights, lurking in Brompton Cemetery at night. Unfortunately I brought a nasty case of bronchitis home with me. Recent…
I’ve been back in England for eight months now. You wouldn’t think it would take so long to feel comfortable in your working space, but it can, especially if your space isn’t conducive to your work. The problem I had was that I put everything in…
It doesn’t seem very popular, this idea that writing is a joyous activity, or that a person would write for no other reason than the sheer joy of doing it. But what if the work itself brings you joy, and what if your story makes you laugh out loud? That’s what Billy does for me.
None of my stories have the crash-bang-wallop so popular these days. My inspiration comes from the forest, where a seeming quiet reigns. People think nothing happens in the forest, but they are wrong.
What brought me to myth and fantasy was a need for words and images that explained the worlds in which I found myself. This holds true to this day.
I wonder if every creative person experiences that moment when they realize they’ve not, for whatever reason, stayed true to their original vision.
I used to think I had no imagination. No one ever told me about personal style, and if they would have, I’d have said I have none.
Leonora moves now into my own memory tower. She was a path-forger and even though she is gone, her footsteps remain, leading up and into the stars.