Tag: Books

What I learned about writing – Storytelling

More Than Just Words: Why We’re All Hungry for Stories

Ever found yourself completely engrossed in a book, a captivating film, or even a friend’s animated anecdote? There’s a reason for that. It’s not just our idle entertainment; it’s a primal, fundamental part of who we are. We are, quite literally, hardwired for stories.

Think about it. From the earliest cave paintings depicting hunts and rituals to the grand epics passed down through generations, humanity has always relied on narrative. It’s how we make sense of the world, how we connect with each other, and how we leave our mark.

The Ancient Art of Immortality

At its core, storytelling is a form of history. It’s how we preserve the experiences, the triumphs, and the struggles of those who came before us. Before written records, oral traditions were the lifeblood of cultures, passing down knowledge, wisdom, and identity. The stories of elders became the lessons for the young, the myths explained the inexplicable, and the legends inspired courage.

But it’s more than just a historical record. Storytelling is also a profound act of immortality. When we share a story, we breathe life back into memories. We keep alive the spirit of individuals, the essence of moments, and the impact of events. A well-told story can transcend time, allowing us to feel present with people who are no longer with us, to understand perspectives different from our own, and to learn from their journeys. It’s through stories that our ancestors, our heroes, and even our ordinary lives can continue to resonate in the present and echo into the future.

Feeding the Soul

Beyond its historical and immortalising qualities, storytelling simply feeds our souls. In a world often characterised by fleeting information and digital overload, a good story offers depth, connection, and emotional resonance.

  • Connection: Stories allow us to step into someone else’s shoes, fostering empathy and understanding. They remind us that despite our differences, we share universal human experiences – love, loss, fear, hope.
  • Meaning-Making: We use stories to process our own lives and the complexities of the world around us. They help us identify patterns, understand causes and effects, and find meaning in the chaos.
  • Inspiration: Stories of resilience, innovation, and courage can ignite our own imaginations and empower us to pursue our dreams. They show us what’s possible.
  • Escape and Joy: Sometimes, we just need to get lost in a different world. Stories offer a welcome escape, a chance to experience adventure, romance, or mystery, and to simply find joy in a well-crafted narrative.

The Power is in Your Hands (and Voice!)

So, the next time you’re drawn to a narrative, remember you’re tapping into something ancient and essential. And even more importantly, remember that you, too, are a storyteller. Your experiences, your memories, your unique perspective – they all have the power to inspire, to connect, and to offer a piece of yourself to the world.

Don’t underestimate the stories you hold. Share them. Write them down. Tell them to your children, your friends, your colleagues. Because in a world hungry for connection and meaning, every story is a gift, a tiny act of immortality, and a vital thread in the rich tapestry of human experience.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My second story 21

More about my second novel

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Zoe is now painfully reminded why she did not get involved with other people, why it was better to be responsible only for herself.  It was easy, perhaps to blame John for making his own problems by not heeding her advice, but, just the same, she felt a small shred of responsibility for his current situation.

After learning that John has been kidnapped by Olga, Zoe first goes to see an old colleague, and Yuri’s friend, Dominica to interrogate her, then meets up with Yuri, and it does not end well for one of them.  After telling her he’s the elusive Romanov, Yuri informs her of the fact that Olga has taken John and that Worthington is about to use John’s mother as leverage against her.

Not knowing immediately where Olga is, but believing she will not kill him because Zoe will come to her, she detours to take care of Worthington, having finally realised why he was searching for her.  In another of her many disguises, room service visits his room, and Worthington gets more than dinner served up to him.

Of course, Yuri lies. He is not Romanov, and Romanov is not trying to kill her, but find her.

Who is she? Well, you’ll have to read the book to find out.

And, as for Olga, well, hell hath no fury than a woman avenging a woman avenging her son!

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My second story 21

More about my second novel

…

Zoe is now painfully reminded why she did not get involved with other people, why it was better to be responsible only for herself.  It was easy, perhaps to blame John for making his own problems by not heeding her advice, but, just the same, she felt a small shred of responsibility for his current situation.

After learning that John has been kidnapped by Olga, Zoe first goes to see an old colleague, and Yuri’s friend, Dominica to interrogate her, then meets up with Yuri, and it does not end well for one of them.  After telling her he’s the elusive Romanov, Yuri informs her of the fact that Olga has taken John and that Worthington is about to use John’s mother as leverage against her.

Not knowing immediately where Olga is, but believing she will not kill him because Zoe will come to her, she detours to take care of Worthington, having finally realised why he was searching for her.  In another of her many disguises, room service visits his room, and Worthington gets more than dinner served up to him.

Of course, Yuri lies. He is not Romanov, and Romanov is not trying to kill her, but find her.

Who is she? Well, you’ll have to read the book to find out.

And, as for Olga, well, hell hath no fury than a woman avenging a woman avenging her son!

…

What I learned about writing – Using another author’s style

The Echo Chamber vs. The Trailblazer: Finding Your Authorial Voice

The blank page stares back, a vast expanse of possibility. As writers, we stand at a familiar crossroads, a debate as old as storytelling itself: should we meticulously study and emulate the voices of those who have come before us, or forge a path entirely our own? Should we lean into the comfortable and the familiar, or strive to create a new artistic vogue?

This isn’t just an abstract literary question; it’s a fundamental one that shapes our creative journey and ultimately, the impact of our words.

The Allure of the Echo: Why Copying Feels Right (Sometimes)

Let’s be honest, there’s a powerful temptation to mimic. When we encounter an author whose prose sings, whose characters leap off the page, or whose plot twists leave us breathless, it’s natural to want to bottle that magic.

  • Learning the Craft: Studying established authors is an invaluable apprenticeship. By dissecting their sentence structures, their pacing, and their use of metaphor, we learn the mechanics of compelling storytelling. It’s like a musician learning scales before composing symphonies.
  • Finding Your Feet: Especially when starting out, adopting a style that resonates can provide a scaffolding. It offers a sense of direction and a model to follow, reducing the paralysing fear of the unknown.
  • Connecting with an Audience: Sometimes, a familiar style taps into a pre-existing reader base. If you write in a genre with established conventions, a comfortable and predictable style can be a draw for those seeking that specific experience.

However, a life spent solely in the echo chamber risks becoming a pale imitation. The danger lies in mistaking appreciation for appropriation, and in becoming so enamoured with another’s voice that we silence our own.

The Audacity of the Original: Charting Your Own Course

Conversely, the call to create something new, to be the trailblazer, is equally potent. It’s the spirit of innovation, of pushing boundaries, of leaving an indelible mark that is uniquely yours.

  • Authenticity and Connection: A truly original voice resonates deeply because it’s born from genuine experience, observation, and perspective. Readers connect with authenticity; they feel a genuine spark when they encounter something that feels fresh and true to the author.
  • Innovation and Evolution: Literature, like any art form, needs to evolve. New voices bring new ideas, new ways of seeing the world, and new techniques that can invigorate the literary landscape. Think of the authors who fundamentally changed how we tell stories – they weren’t afraid to deviate from the norm.
  • Finding Your Unique Power: Your life experiences, your quirks, your individual way of processing the world – these are the raw materials of your unique voice. To suppress them in favour of someone else’s is to dim your own light.

The Sweet Spot: Where Familiarity Meets the New

So, where does this leave us? Is it an either/or proposition? Not necessarily. The most compelling authors often strike a delicate balance.

  • Influence, Not Imitation: We are all influenced by what we read. The key is to absorb those influences, to understand why they work, and then to filter them through your own unique lens. Your voice is not built in a vacuum; it’s a tapestry woven with the threads of your experiences and the inspiration you’ve drawn from others.
  • Mastering the Familiar to Subvert It: Sometimes, the most groundbreaking work arises from a deep understanding of existing conventions. By mastering the familiar, you gain the power to play with it, to bend it, and ultimately, to subvert it in exciting and unexpected ways.
  • Seeking Your “Why”: Before you choose your path, ask yourself: Why am I writing this? What is the core message or feeling I want to convey? Your “why” will often guide you towards the most authentic and impactful voice, whether it’s a whisper of the familiar or a roar of the new.

The Verdict: Cultivate Your Own Garden

Ultimately, the pursuit of a unique authorial voice is not about rejecting all external influence. It’s about engaging with those influences critically, learning from them, and then, crucially, integrating them into your own distinct expression.

Don’t be afraid to experiment. Don’t be afraid to stumble. Don’t be afraid to sound a little like yourself, even if that self is still under construction. The world of literature is rich because of its diversity. It needs your echoes, yes, but more importantly, it thirsts for your original song. So, embrace the challenge, cultivate your own garden of words, and let your unique voice bloom.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 149

Day 149 – What really is writer’s block

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The Myth of the Blank Page: Why “Writer’s Block” Is More Than Just a Stuck Pen

Every writer knows the sensation: you stare at the cursor, blinking rhythmically against a stark white screen, and your brain feels like a locked door. You can’t find the key. You call it “writer’s block.” You blame it on the caffeine crash, the deadline pressure, or a lack of inspiration.

But have you ever stopped to wonder if the term itself is actually to blame?

If you trace the history of those two words back to their source, you’ll find that “writer’s block” isn’t a medical condition or an inevitable creative cycle. It’s a diagnosis—and one that carries a heavy, somewhat dark, psychological weight.

The Invention of a Diagnosis

For most of literary history, writers simply struggled. They had “dry spells,” they “hit a wall,” or they were “out of ideas.” Then, in 1947, a psychoanalyst named Edmund Bergler coined the term “writer’s block.”

To understand Bergler, you have to understand the era. He was working in the shadow of Sigmund Freud, and he viewed the creative process through a very specific, psychoanalytic lens. Bergler didn’t think you were stuck because you were tired or uninspired. He believed that the “block” was actually an unconscious act of self-sabotage.

According to Bergler, writers were suffering from a deep-seated, masochistic drive. He argued that the writer unconsciously sabotaged their own work to enjoy the “self-constructed defeat” of failing to write. In his view, the agony of not being able to finish a manuscript wasn’t a struggle against a narrative problem; it was a psychological compulsion to suffer.

Is This Really About Word Counts?

If we accept Bergler’s definition, then “writer’s block” stops being a productivity issue and starts being an internal conflict.

This is where things get interesting. If you’re struggling to reach your daily word count, you usually look for practical solutions: try the Pomodoro technique, change your environment, or outline your chapters more clearly. But if the problem is actually a subconscious desire to sabotage yourself, those practical fixes will never work.

By framing our struggles as “writer’s block,” we’ve inherited a diagnosis that suggests the problem lies deep within our psyche, rather than on the page. It turns a professional hurdle into a personal failing.

Moving Beyond the “Block”

Maybe it’s time we retire the phrasing. When we tell ourselves we have “writer’s block,” we are giving ourselves permission to stop. We are turning a temporary lapse in flow into an identity—a “blocked” writer.

Perhaps the next time you feel stuck, you shouldn’t ask, “Why am I sabotaging myself?” or “How do I overcome this block?” Instead, try asking:

  • Is this section actually necessary for the story? (Maybe you’re stuck because the narrative is heading in the wrong direction.)
  • Am I exhausted or burnt out? (Sometimes, the tank is just empty.)
  • Is my goal too big? (Breaking a chapter into 100-word segments is far less daunting than “finishing the book.”)

Writer’s block might be a useful shorthand for the frustration of the craft, but it’s worth remembering that it was invented by a man who looked for internal demons behind every closed door. You don’t have to be a masochist to struggle with a sentence. Sometimes, a hard day of writing is just a hard day of writing—no analysis required.

Next time the words won’t come, don’t blame your subconscious. Just close the laptop, take a walk, and remember: you aren’t “blocked.” You’re just in the middle of the work.

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 149

Day 149 – What really is writer’s block

…

The Myth of the Blank Page: Why “Writer’s Block” Is More Than Just a Stuck Pen

Every writer knows the sensation: you stare at the cursor, blinking rhythmically against a stark white screen, and your brain feels like a locked door. You can’t find the key. You call it “writer’s block.” You blame it on the caffeine crash, the deadline pressure, or a lack of inspiration.

But have you ever stopped to wonder if the term itself is actually to blame?

If you trace the history of those two words back to their source, you’ll find that “writer’s block” isn’t a medical condition or an inevitable creative cycle. It’s a diagnosis—and one that carries a heavy, somewhat dark, psychological weight.

The Invention of a Diagnosis

For most of literary history, writers simply struggled. They had “dry spells,” they “hit a wall,” or they were “out of ideas.” Then, in 1947, a psychoanalyst named Edmund Bergler coined the term “writer’s block.”

To understand Bergler, you have to understand the era. He was working in the shadow of Sigmund Freud, and he viewed the creative process through a very specific, psychoanalytic lens. Bergler didn’t think you were stuck because you were tired or uninspired. He believed that the “block” was actually an unconscious act of self-sabotage.

According to Bergler, writers were suffering from a deep-seated, masochistic drive. He argued that the writer unconsciously sabotaged their own work to enjoy the “self-constructed defeat” of failing to write. In his view, the agony of not being able to finish a manuscript wasn’t a struggle against a narrative problem; it was a psychological compulsion to suffer.

Is This Really About Word Counts?

If we accept Bergler’s definition, then “writer’s block” stops being a productivity issue and starts being an internal conflict.

This is where things get interesting. If you’re struggling to reach your daily word count, you usually look for practical solutions: try the Pomodoro technique, change your environment, or outline your chapters more clearly. But if the problem is actually a subconscious desire to sabotage yourself, those practical fixes will never work.

By framing our struggles as “writer’s block,” we’ve inherited a diagnosis that suggests the problem lies deep within our psyche, rather than on the page. It turns a professional hurdle into a personal failing.

Moving Beyond the “Block”

Maybe it’s time we retire the phrasing. When we tell ourselves we have “writer’s block,” we are giving ourselves permission to stop. We are turning a temporary lapse in flow into an identity—a “blocked” writer.

Perhaps the next time you feel stuck, you shouldn’t ask, “Why am I sabotaging myself?” or “How do I overcome this block?” Instead, try asking:

  • Is this section actually necessary for the story? (Maybe you’re stuck because the narrative is heading in the wrong direction.)
  • Am I exhausted or burnt out? (Sometimes, the tank is just empty.)
  • Is my goal too big? (Breaking a chapter into 100-word segments is far less daunting than “finishing the book.”)

Writer’s block might be a useful shorthand for the frustration of the craft, but it’s worth remembering that it was invented by a man who looked for internal demons behind every closed door. You don’t have to be a masochist to struggle with a sentence. Sometimes, a hard day of writing is just a hard day of writing—no analysis required.

Next time the words won’t come, don’t blame your subconscious. Just close the laptop, take a walk, and remember: you aren’t “blocked.” You’re just in the middle of the work.

…

What I learned about writing – Some pointers for reviewing your work

Sharpen Your Words: Simple Tips for Better Writing

Ever finish writing something and feel like it’s just… not quite right? We’ve all been there. Polishing your writing is key to making sure your message shines through. Here are a few handy tips to help you review your work and make it stronger.

Keep it Concise

Don’t write long sentences. Shorter sentences are easier to follow. They pack a punch.

Each sentence should make a clear statement. Get straight to the point. Avoid rambling. Every sentence needs a purpose.

Watch Your Vocabulary

Don’t use big words. Choose words that everyone understands. Simple language is powerful language.

Never use words whose meanings you are not sure of. If you’re second-guessing a word, swap it out. Clarity is king.

Be Concrete

Avoid the abstract. Stick to what you can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. Give examples. Paint a picture with your words.

What Else?

These are great starting points, but what else can help you make your writing shine?

  • Read it aloud: This is a game-changer. You’ll catch awkward phrasing and sentences that are too long. Your ears will tell you what your eyes miss.
  • Get a second opinion: Ask a friend or colleague to read your work. They’ll see things you’re too close to notice.
  • Take a break: Step away from your writing. Come back with fresh eyes.
  • Focus on flow: Do your ideas connect smoothly? Are your paragraphs logically ordered?
  • Check for repetition: Are you saying the same thing over and over? Find different ways to express your ideas.

Reviewing your writing doesn’t have to be a chore. By keeping these simple tips in mind, you can transform your drafts into clear, engaging pieces that truly connect with your readers. Happy writing!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 148

Day 148 – From a single spark

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The Art of the Spark: Why Your Best Ideas Don’t Happen at a Desk

We are taught from a young age that productivity is a sedentary activity. We’re told to sit down, open the laptop, force a furrowed brow, and “get to work.” We treat creativity like a math equation: Inputs + Desk Time = Output.

But if you look at the creative process of the world’s most interesting thinkers, you’ll find a common truth: The best work rarely happens when you’re forcing it.

I don’t sit at my desk and think. That’s not how the magic works. For me, the process is far more ethereal, and infinitely more effective.

The Midnight Line

My creative process starts in the quiet, disjointed landscape of a dream. I wake up, often in the haze of the early morning, with a single line etched into my consciousness. It’s a fragment—a stray thought that feels like it carries the weight of a thousand words.

I write it down immediately, before the logic of the waking world can dilute it. And then, I look at it.

At that moment, the line is just a point—a single dot on a blank page. But that dot is powerful because it’s unresolved. It isn’t a finished sentence; it’s a compass needle. It can lean in a dozen different directions.

Inventing the Context

Here is the secret that most people are too afraid to admit: I don’t always know what my own ideas mean at first.

When I look at that line, I’m not analysing it. I’m playing with it. I’m acting as an architect for an idea that has no home yet. If the line is strange or opaque, I have to work backward. I have to invent a context. I have to build a world around that fragment so that it finally makes sense.

This is the opposite of the “desk-bound” approach. Instead of starting with a rigid structure and trying to fill it, I start with a spark and wait to see what it sets on fire.

The Death of Failure

When you view creativity as a process of discovery—of waking up and following a thread—the fear of failure evaporates.

If I sit down to write a “perfect” piece of work and it doesn’t land, it feels like a failure. But if I wake up and write down a line, and then spend my day trying to figure out what that line could be, there is no such thing as failure.

If the direction I choose doesn’t quite fit, I simply change the context. If the concept doesn’t work, I turn the page. Every attempt is just another way of exploring the potential of that original point. It isn’t a mistake; it’s a draft. It’s an exploration. It’s the process of turning fog into solid ground.

Your Next Step

If you feel blocked, stop trying to force your brain to function like a machine at your desk. Let go of the need to have a “final plan” before you begin.

Start with a line. Don’t judge it. Don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense yet. Treat your idea like a point that can lean in any direction, and give yourself the freedom to invent the world that houses it.

After all, the most compelling stories aren’t the ones we plan—they’re the ones we discover by listening to the quiet fragments of our own minds.

…

Searching for Locations: The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

Sorry, reminiscing again…

It was a cold but far from a miserable day.  We were taking our grandchildren on a tour of the most interesting sites in Paris, the first of which was the Eiffel Tower.

We took the overground train, which had double-decker carriages, a first for the girls, to get to the tower.

We took the underground, or Metro, back, and they were fascinated with the fact the train carriages ran on road tires.

Because it was so cold, and windy, the tower was only open to the second level. It was a disappointment to us, but the girls were content to stay on the second level.

There they had the French version of chips.

It was a dull day, but the views were magnificent.

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A view of the Seine

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Sacre Coeur church at Montmartre in the distance.

Another view along the river Seine

Overlooking the tightly packed apartment buildings

Looking along the opposite end of the river Seine

Harry Walthenson, Private Detective – the second case – A case of finding the “Flying Dutchman”

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What starts as a search for a missing husband soon develops into an unbelievable story of treachery, lies, and incredible riches.

…

It was meant to remain buried long enough for the dust to settle on what was once an unpalatable truth, when enough time had passed, and those who had been willing to wait could reap the rewards.

The problem was, no one knew where that treasure was hidden or the location of the logbook that held the secret.

At stake, billions of dollars’ worth of stolen Nazi loot brought to the United States in an anonymous tramp steamer and hidden in a specially constructed vault under a specifically owned plot of land on the once docklands of New York.

It may have remained hidden and unknown to only a few, if it had not been for a mere obscure detail being overheard …

… by our intrepid, newly minted private detective, Harry Walthenson …

… and it would have remained buried.

Now, through a series of unrelated events, or are they, that well-kept secret is out there, and Harry will not stop until the whole truth is uncovered.

Even if it almost costs him his life.  Again.