Truth No. 6 – I lied

Do your characters lie? If not, make them, they will be more authentic. We all lie, don’t we? I know I do. Sweet little lies (there’s a great song there, check it out!), not the big stonking ones I used to tell. I learnt to lie from my mother. Not that she sat me down…

Truth No. 5 – We all have one

February 6th – my Mother’s birthday. Were she still alive, today would have been my mother’s eightieth birthday. My Mother died when she was sixty-nine. Enough years on the planet one might suppose to ‘get things right.’ What things, you may ask. Well to find that out, you’ll have to wait for the publication of…

Truth No. 4 – Sulking means something

For me my best writing comes from emotion, feeling empathy for my characters, understanding their needs and who they are. Have you ever written about a character who sulks? Think about it, the opportunities to discover the inner workings of their mind. Why are they sulking? What is it they want? What is it they…

Truth No. 3 – Eating for comfort

When I write, it’s usually in a cafe with a coffee by my side, sometimes it’s at home in the early evening with a glass of wine and a snack. Always it’s with pleasure. Pleasure in my surroundings, pleasure filling the blank page, pleasure sipping my chosen drink and eating my chosen snack. I write…

Truth No. 2 – I need to tell my story

What gets you moving, writing, creating, thinking, communicating, reflecting … ? I could go on. As human beings we advance, we flourish, blossom, grow. If not, we die. It’s the truth. *** I passed a man walking his dog this morning. ‘What a lovely dog,’ I said. It was a Jack Russel type, one with…

Truth No. 1 – Feeling Small

I grew up with a feeling of being in the way; a sense of not being wanted, of being a nuisance to my mother, a bother, an unwanted distraction. My mother was pleasure seeking and I was not her pleasure. What is pleasure? Kahil Gibran on pleasure: Pleasure is a freedom-song, But it is not…

Grandad

My mother prevented me from knowing my father. At least that is what I think. I will never know the truth because she has passed. I did not know my father. I met him for the first time a year after my mother past away when I was 49. The closest I had to a…

My mother’s silent messages silenced me.

My mother was able to pass me silent messages just by a look or a tiny gesture. Looking back now, I can see my mother was hiding and she was afraid I would reveal her secrets and shame. Somehow she managed to transfer her feelings onto me until they became mine. My mother never allowed…

Hiding, secrets and lies

Hiding, secrets and lies – ways of being or qualities that I leant from my mother. To survive my childhood I had to hide, keep secrets and lie. Sadly, I took these characteristics with me into adulthood. They became friends that I could rely on. From writing this piece, I can observe how lonely Lisa…

Arm in Arm

All my life, I craved physical touch from my mother who was unable to give or receive comfort. When we walked arm in arm, which we often did in her later years when she was struggling, I relished the contact, but felt the weight and burden of her. In this piece of writing, I have…