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beccipoet

Handing out words

The Roving Poet Part 18: The Ups and the Downs

The year so far has seen a fair amount of disappointment, rejections and general questioning-my-ability-to-be-a-writer. All, I am reassured, regular factors in the world of artistic freelancing. There are waves to ride, and after each wave comes a deep trough... Continue Reading →

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The Adventurer Part 3: An Artist’s Land

For a while, it seems, this particular adventurer has not been very adventurous. In early March, I finished a rewrite of my fantasy novel, having painstakingly planned, retyped, edited and reworked 109,000 words of prose. It is now 120,000 words... Continue Reading →

The Adventurer Part 2: The Quiet Space Between

Well, January has crashed into being with all the usual fears and concerns: money, weight loss, what-the-hell-am-I-doing-with-my-life worries. Once again, it’s the season in which we make arbitrary promises to ourselves, determined that this time we will keep them, and... Continue Reading →

The Adventurer Part 1: Dragons in our Hearts

My lack of blog posts over the last few months has been no reflection on my writing habits over the same period. In fact, I have been working diligently since August on a fantasy book, the first prose writing I... Continue Reading →

The Roving Poet Part 17: Filming Poems

Yesterday was a rather surreal day. I have never spent a Sunday in Poole before and had forgotten how sleepy some towns can be towards the end of a weekend. The museum was quiet, except for the protestations of my... Continue Reading →

The Roving Poet Part 16: A Quiet Beach

I’m writing a week after the fact this time, but my mind is still very much on the harbour, in the town of Poole with its cobbled streets and busy quay. I am back to last Tuesday, stepping out of... Continue Reading →

The Roving Poet part 15: Young Views of Sea Music

When children choose to attend a writing workshop, they often come wrapped in a mix of eagerness and anxiety that leaves them looking, mostly, very confused. They smile, but only slightly, they have ideas, but they speak them very quietly.... Continue Reading →

The Roving Poet Part 14: The Crow’s Nest

For once so far, this summer, it isn’t raining. But the clouds are thick and hang low in the sky. The gulls wheel in and out of them, calling in that screeching voice of protest that is so familiar to... Continue Reading →

The Roving Poet Part 13: Listening to Sea Music

Today, the coast of England seems to have remembered—however briefly—that it is Summer. The sun has made a guest appearance, though I am assured that she will be disappearing to other climes tomorrow and the end of July will roll... Continue Reading →

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