My favourite writer's website,
http://strugglingauthors.co.uk/default.aspx
has suddenly bloomed into a hive of activity.
It's a cosy, intimate little corner that normally ticks along nicely with a wide range of subjects to help the "struggling author" and a small band of writing enthusiasts who regularly add to the forums.
There are no arrogant creative writing teachers snorting loudly onto the page, no know-it-all 6th form students pretending to be 42 year old Poet Laureates and to put a fine point on it, no egos full stop.
I basically like it because it does what a website of this nature should do, i.e. it offers support and advice.
So imagine how nice it was for me to be asked to scribble down a short passage about the adversity and troubles that have assailed me on the long, lonely journey to, (hopefully) seeing my name in print.
Nice :-)
So that's what I'm going to do. Cool, eh?
I've a bit of translation to do for a friend and then I'll get stuck in.
Right, that's it then.
No more news, sadly.

But one day, oh yes, one day I will have something to tell you.
Be it good or be it bad.

Tara.
Reg

It's Friday and slowly but surely, I'm starting to feel the need to write again. I won't be doing anything this weekend, haven't the tie I'm afraid, but it's on the near horizon.
This waiting for an answer form the publisher is killing me. I'm checking my mails, on average, about five times a day. However, all good things to those who wait… Right?
(I sincerely hope that maxim is right).

You know what, I've whinged enough about this waiting lark. The next time I mention it will be when I hear something.
Dealio?
Dealio.

On a slightly cheerier note, my friend and one time literal partner, Tee, has assured me that she'll be plonking the keyboard on her blog before the end of the month.
Well, actually that was a slight nudge to the J.K.Rowling of Ashford to get something down on her page; I'm fed up of the same, "MAN UNITED A BIG FAT ZERO" entry.
Give me some news Tee, lol.

Anyway, have a great weekend.
Reg

What I don't understand is my inability to write at a constant tempo. It seems that I have mad dashes of creativity that dazzle even me, and then long periods of nothing; and I mean absolutely nothing.
It's like I know I should write but I can't bring myself to tap the keys. I avoid even thinking about it.
Why, I wonder, is that so?
I am passionate about every story I do to the point of being able to sit for hours just staring into space, plotting my characters and all the misery that will befall them. Before I go to sleep I think about what I'm writing, envisaging how a scene will turn out or how a character is going to meet a grizzly end. Someone once suggested I take a notebook with me where ever I go, to jot down ideas as they hit me, but the fact of the matter is that I think about every project I start so much that ideas spring on me all the time. I've no shortage on the imagination front.
However, then it comes to actually putting down my ideas and I'm forced to wait until the mood takes me.
Why is that?

I know why I stopped on book two of Division. I was just fed up with all the waiting for an answer from the many agents I wrote to, I needed to move on.
The story's still there and if I hear anything positive I'll simply pick up from where I left off. But for now, I need a break from Markus von Struck and his crew.
Hence my little flurry with the short stories and now the newest project. This latest project is really interesting. I love making up my own little worlds and histories and the new storyline allows me to do just that. However, I haven't touched it for over a month now and can't seem to bring myself into the zone where I'm comfortable tapping the keys.

Well, there you go. Now you know why I'm so phlegmatic when it comes to writing. I haven't mentioned the shift work, house, kids and social life because anyone who has read my earlier whinges knows all about those, lol.

Whatever, I am feeling the need again slowly, so in a couple of days I think I'll be there again; in the zone…

Have a good one.
Reg :-)

10 days since the last post and I have nothing to deliver, I'm afraid.

Next time I'll have something for you.
OK?
Reg ;-)

So…
I have absolutely nothing to report, I'm afraid.
I haven't written anything due to all the social and work commitments that have laid siege to my free time since we returned from Spain.
This month I'm invited to a 30th birthday party, a 40th and I have friends coming from Britain and Paderborn with the sole purpose of drinking me under the table. Yesterday was spent introducing a couple of friends from Bavaria to the wonderful world of Guinness. A time consuming process that involved lots of money and hurried trips to the toilet.
All good fun though.
It doesn't stop there though, on top of all that are the usual labour obligations to my firm, family and friends that govern my life with an iron rod.
So, as one can see, writing has a hard time competing with everything else, especially when all it seems to produce are rejection slips and heartbreak, lol.

And while we're on the subject of dismissal…
Still nothing from the publishers.
Every day I check my mails like a lovesick teenager, hoping for that one mail, that golden message of acceptance into the ranks of the published writer's brigade.
Alas, it hasn't yet happened, but I'm optimistic…. All be it very furtively.

Anyway, that's it for now.
Tara.
Reg ;-)