I’ve got a post today that has nothing to do with my writing or my books … or anybody’s writing or books for that matter. I tried, at first, to tie it all together, but about half way through it felt forced, contrived. So I’m just going to go for it and tell it like …
Do you remember your first childhood love? That tongue-tied, red-faced, all-consuming crush where you don’t know if you’re coming or going, but it’s the centre of your universe and you wouldn’t change it for anything? I do. I was nine. Twenty-odd years later, my first crush still haunts my subconscious. Literally.
Journals. If you’re a writer, you’re supposed to keep one, right? Virginia Woolf did it, and so did other greats like Franz Kafka, Susan Sontag and C.S. Lewis. So yeah, okay, for a long time I felt like a total failure because I couldn’t maintain one, despite my many attempts over the years. And believe …
Well, here we are in a new year. I’ve learned lots of lessons in 2016, and I hope to carry them forward to make 2017 the best year yet. The best part of last year was, by far, the unprecedented response I’ve had to the release of my latest novel, The Ghosts of Tullybrae House. …
This weekend I was all set to write a book review for my next blog post. I had one drafted, I’d given it a lot of thought, and then on Saturday night I found myself with a rare stretch of time and no pressing tasks or engagements. Now what, one might wonder, does Veronica do …
If you read one of my more recent posts, When It’s Time to Make those Tough Decisions, you may recall that I have recently taken a hard look at what I’ve been spending my writing time doing, and had concluded that I need to cut a whole bunch of starchy, superfluous “stuff” from my plate. …
Have you ever had so much on your plate, so much to do and so much you want to do, that you’re overwhelmed to the point of paralysis? I never thought that would be me, but there it is—the explanation for why I’ve practically dropped off the face of the earth … or at least …
