In the past six weeks, I’ve worked on:
- A series of poems called The Menopause Cycle – I’ve written two, one called Constellations, one My Mother’s Hands, and read them both at a poetry event;
- The beginning of a novella in an anthology with Anna Leigh called Seasons – this novella is called Winter;
- Blogs, of course;
- A manual about managing major litigation files;
- A novel that I’m about a third of the way into;
- An article for a newsletter;
- Oh, yeah, and the beginnings of three more poems, the start of a short story, and the first third of another novella.
As you can see, I shift from one thing to another very quickly – this is only the past six weeks. In the past six months, I’ve probably worked on four or five times as many different types of writing.
I know, I know, it seems a bit… Odd? Ridiculous? Scatter-brained?
But it’s the way I read as well. I read right across all the genres. I read literary fiction. I read short stories. I read poetry. I read non-fiction, magazines, newspapers. I read romance, science fiction, fantasy, mysteries, thrillers… Whatever’s out there, I read it. And it’s the way I begin to write as well. This angel is stuck in my head – she’ll soon be the beginning of something. I have hundreds of bits of things that will, one day, turn into a book or a poem or a story.
For me, although it took me almost ten years to figure it out, it’s natural. It’s the way my mind works. It took me another ten years to figure out why that’s so.
I am easily bored. And I’m fascinated in everything. I want to know everything. I want to read everything. And, obviously, I also write to write everything. Often all at once.
So my writing follows my reading which is a thing I’ve figured out right here and now because I’m writing about it. Actually that’s another thing about my writing. I have no idea what I’m going to write until I begin it and it feels right.
So there you go – it’s all of a piece for me. Life. Reading. Writing.