There’s defiantly something good about getting high. High up a mountain I mean! This the view I saw skiing over the border from Italy to France last week. After a month of wind, rain and yet more flooding in Cumbria, this writers life was boosted with a week away and
The snow blasted run is done, the animals have been attended to, and now it’s time to write. A run before writing always makes getting started easier. With a tired body, the mind is free to roam. I have to laugh. As I walk from the house to the studio
Frosty mornings have transitioned November to December. Every day of November I had one those of those nagging doubts. What have I forgotten to do? It was one of those, “it’s important…” forgettings that leaves you preoccupied with an indistinct worry. Was it an opportunity missed? Was someone waiting for
I am back at my desk in Cumbria, deep in the editing process after a wonderful week in the Highlands. I’ve been thinking of Agatha Christie and how travel impacted her writing so greatly. Christie said, “Your travel life has the aspect of a dream. It is something outside the
The virginia creeper outside my writing studio is turning red. It’s a glorious sight and always stops me in my tracks. It’s a stunning signal of Autumn’s arrival and that it’s time to be back at my desk. I remember reading an article years ago about the joys of having
I’m in the Beau Rivage Palace, looking out on Lake Geneva, a glass of chilled champagne in my hand. The lights shimmer in the water as darkness falls. I have never stayed in such a beautiful hotel. If only I was on holiday. I shake my head, clearly the last few
I’m deep in a maze. Racing through tight pathways, high hedges on both sides. Fear grips me. There are people all around me. Some are hidden, some push and shove for attention. To begin with it was exhilarating. I would almost call it fun. But then… This is no physical
The end. I did it! A decade after enrolling in The Writers Bureau Creative Writing course I finally finished. No, I am not that slow… honestly. After a productive first two years working through the non-fiction assignments, life bowled me one of those swerving balls. Before I realised quite what
Kerry Cooper 