“Each day is like an enormous rock that I’m trying to push up this hill. I get it up a fair distance, it rolls back a little bit, and I keep pushing it, hoping I’ll get it to the top of the hill and that it will go on its own momentum…I’ve never given up.
All posts by Buffy
British novelist Arthur Quiller-Couch (pen name “Q”) published a series of lectures titled On the Art of Writing (1916) while serving as a professor of English at Cambridge University. Here he warns of purple prose… “To begin with, let me plead that you have been told of one or two things which Style is not;
“It is folly to believe that you can bring the psychology of an individual successfully to life without putting him very firmly in a social setting.” – Tom Wolfe
If you want to be a writer, you have to write every day. The consistency, the monotony, the certainty, all vagaries and passions are covered by this daily reoccurrence…Sleep comes to you each day, and so does the muse. So says Walter Mosley. A few months ago I was watching John Grisham on one of
The man defined by his hair – who comes from a line of blond Turks – now runs London. Just watching his dad on television. He’s basically saying his son ‘has been without a drink for over a year..that’s how serious he is about running the capital,’ which I find sort of amusing. It’s true
“There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly: sometimes it’s like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.” – Ernest Hemingway
The evening was a strange one. Darcy danced on her two sore feet to an out of tune fiddle played by the neighbor’s cat. Her brother slid across the floor on his belly making hissing noises and laughing out loud. I got scared and started writing a story about Old Lady Filmore and how she
Had breakfast with my Second Sisters. Scones weren’t very English, but were very good. Helped kick start weekend’s carb comma. Involved in said comma: spicy tuna roll, antipasti panini, stromboli, macaroni and gruyere cheese and large bites of pancake. Stopped by college bookstore where once bought first Flannery O’Connor collection. Loaded up on E. M.
You know those people who go a little bit crazy if they don’t get their coffee fix every morning? I’ve become one of those. Yes. Me, the girl, who heretofore had three cups of coffee a year – and those, just to keep her hands warm. There’s this place called Summit. Maybe a fifteen minute
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
I’m a romantic when it comes to Fleet Street. No reason, really. Except I feel as if I should be. But I’m like that with most of London. The parts the fire didn’t get. The parts the Germans did. I’ve spent too much time hanging around the Temple. Inner. Middle. All those Barristers make me
