Why I Write/Summer Reading

     In May, Cait O'Connor  invited me to join a group of other writer/bloggers including Pamela of The House of Edward in doing a post entitled Why I Write. I was flattered and interested...and distracted and thought I would get to it - in the end.

     In brief, I think I write for the same reason I read: to enter a window into another world.

Chelsea Physik Garden

 I've been thinking of wonderful summer reads - needless to say most set in England. I just finished Kate Atkinson's virtuoso Life After Life. I gobbled it up, loving every minute of it.

Wiltshire

 Several years ago, I felt rather the same about Rosamund Pilcher's The Shell Seekers, set in Cornwall.

Wiltshire

Jane Gardam's Old Filth Trilogy is a real delight - rich and visual and sensual and altogether astounding.

as above

And as for me - I try to recapture a now vanished world - of family and England and love and hardship. I have recently re-edited Ruth and Gisela which was originally published as A Fortunate Child. It's now available on Amazon's Kindle Direct which means you don't have to have an actual book and can download it in an instant.  Click here for details. A very kind review of the book on the super bookish blog A Work in Progress.

Another window in a very old house in Wiltshire, with the light slipping in sideways - like in old Dutch paintings.

Here is the house where part of  Ruth and Gisela is set. My grandparents' house in Faversham, Kent photographed in about 1952. I'm so glad most of the windows are open. The final photo is of a family celebration some years ago, because my story is about family and mothers and daughters.

Happy 4th of July

Moroccan Dreams

Only about six weeks until we go back to Morocco for me to lead a writing workshop, so I've been thinking about it a lot.

All sorts of images and memories from when we lived there and from way before that. 

On the left, a mosque that almost tumbles into the sea on the coast north of Essouira. On the right the shadow and glitz of the souk.

We lived a rather simple sort of life -- our front door was on the right of the lower right picture -- deep in the medina. Marrakesh can be super-chic and glitzy, but it can be shabby-chic too.....and even rather gritty and down-at-heels. I loved its many different faces. 

I could spend hours making collages. These images are all with walking distance of Djemma Elfna, the  main square.

 

These last two make me smile: little oranges in a house with really traditional tiles, and a view of the foothills of the Atlas Mountains near my friend Jamila's house.

The writing workshop is being held at Peacock Pavilions just outside the city.

See the photos below taken by Holly Becker of Decor8

during her really successful design workshop.

Please contact me very soon indeed for more details about joining our small group.

Evening NYU

In the very few moments spent not entertaining this....

I try to do some writing.

 A group of us often get together to talk about writing.

Usually we meet in someone's home where the snacks are a bit better.

(But we don't often have saki).

This week we borrowed a room on Lafyette Street belonging to NYU.

It turned out to have a grand piano.  A jazz band practiced below us.

 Anna, like the room, was a study in black and white...

There were reflections both literal and metaphorical.

... and intriguing glimpses into the building opposite.

Inspiration or Working from Home

Bee and Sarah have had recent posts about their work spaces/studies. Gretel showed a picture of her table scattered with fascinating objects. Dave King discussed responses to paintings.

(You can see how much time I've spent recently in the Blogosphere since the weather is so beastly cold and I've been pretty much winterbound.)

Robert and I both work at home.

This is his very old chair and a painting in progress.

This is the tray he mixes paints in - a sort of accidental painting in itself.

A photo, a painting, lots of bits of paper that have spray paint and stuff on.

"When oft upon my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood/they flash upon my inward eye which is the bliss of solitude...." 

Wordsworth had it pretty much right.  Quite a lot of lying on couches required when trying to be creative.

An unintentional ode to red on my desk. A jumble of things. What resonances each each sets off.