A writer's work...............

A writer's work is harder than you might imagine. It isn't about sitting down and writing what comes into your head. Oh no. It's about ideas and creativity and then structure, structure, structure. Then it's about editing: self-editing and then editing by A. N. Other.

Lizzie knew a theatre person (back in the mists of time) who would start out with the text of a play or some dramatic ideas, then begin to take things out as opposed to adding things in. This process of taking out meant that what was left carried more freight of meaning for the reader because there was 'space' around the signifiers. If everything is spelled out, then there is no room for the piece to breathe through it's floating signifiers and no room for some creative search for meaning

I realise this is all sounding somewhat post-modern. (Should it have the hyphen these days?) Most of the population prefer classical realist texts that will reassure them that life is knowable and predictable. Most TV is like this. However, I'm afraid this view of life is an illusion. We are in an unknowable and unpredictable universe and our sense of reality is false. 

Hmmm. How did I get from "A writer's work" to our sense of reality being false? Exciting stuff, eh!

An upward-reaching ewe........

It's not that I'm in any shape
to feel myself anew.
Despite the many years of change
I'm still a sheepy ewe.

It's not that I can shape or feel
my way to peace and calm.
A fully rounded personage
of veritable balm.

I'm ovine-dwelling into shape
and burgeoning to be
a roundly upward-reaching ewe
whose almost bourgeoisie.

Mouton Potato: I don't think so!

Yesterday I was really excited about the photo shoot on the terrace for my 'look & feel' in the book. Today, things have taken a serious turn for the worse as Lizzie has been trying to recreate a version of me from a potato. Yes - you haven't been seeing things. A potato, no less!

 

I don't know about you, but this isn't exactly the 'look & feel' that I had in mind. Not only did she make this ...... what I can only describe as a .....'thing'.......... but she actually thought it worth a discussion with some visitors, over tea. 

As if that were not bad enough, these visitors referred to me - real me - relaxing on the lawn, as a "plastic sheep". Plastic! I'm too depressed to write any more............................