For the past week I’ve woken up every night in a cold sweat. It’s not the thought of bills, chores or work that wake me… it’s my novel.

For the past week I’ve woken up every night in a cold sweat. It’s not the thought of bills, chores or work that wake me… it’s my novel.
No matter how fluffy the bathrobe or late the check-out the one drawcard that never fails to entice the final digit of my CVC is a hotel with books.
If you type ‘Do writers have spirit animals?’ into Google the first two words will lead one into predictable territory
I have a friend who is a psychologist. I have yet to see a person meet her and not worriedly suggest that she has been analysing them. Little do they know that this couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s not my friend who’s watching them. It's me. It is instinctual for me and those …
Continue reading What Are You Looking at? The Voyeur Inside Every Writer