I want to write a book
Some of the topics cover in this blog:
And there is more, such as ePubs, editing, and creativity, all designed to support you as a writer who hungers to be published.
Author Isabel Allen, when delivering a TED talk Passion lives here said; Isn’t it always true? Heart is what drives us and determines our fate. That is what I need for the characters in my books; a passionate heart. I need mavericks, dissidents, adventurers, outsiders, and rebels, who ask questions, bend the rules and take risks. People like all of you in this room. Nice people with common sense do not make interesting characters. They only make good former spouses.
This is important as you only become a writer when you say you are a writer, not when the book is published, or recognition comes your way. For instance; Stevie is eight years old and plays soccer. Oh yes, he doesn't kick the ball very well, and has not yet learnt to head the ball – but he is a soccer player. He and his mother do not wait until he plays for Liverpool to call him a soccer player. He is a soccer player irrespective of his level of skill; after all, he will acquire these with practice.
The same goes for you. You may not have all the skills to produce great prose – yet. But you are still a writer. Do not let the so-called professionals intimidate you – you are a writer. Say it to yourself, I am a writer.
Because of the momentousness of this point, I am going to spend more time on it.
Be well, write well Pat
P.S Feel free to comment on this post.
Continuing Captain Corelli’s Mandarin from the above post. … She did not feel very much like a healer when she saw those feet, however; they were unrecognisable as such. They were a necrotic, multi-hued. A shell of puss and scab lay upon the inner winding of the abandoned bandages, and yellow maggots writhed and squirmed in flesh that was all but dead. “Gerasimos!” Exclaimed Drosoula, clutching her son’s weathered shoulders for support as she tried not to faint away. The stench was inconceivably stupefying, and at last Pelagia felt herself flood with the sacred compassion whose absence has previously so appalled her…