Fat, Frumpy, Fourty and writing....

I have suddenly found a burning ambition to classify my Favourites on AOL and to add all the tags in my Technorati site… what is this? – but virtual sand pouring through my hands?

I can justify it because it is important to actually be able to revisit useful sites that you find – but on the other hand – why am I playing this virtual game? Is the fiction too frightening? Yes I suspect so.

Lyme Regis has always been the home where my creative soul lives. When I crave for peace and quiet, fresh air and friendship, this is the place I run to. I have walked down the sands for hours, crying – the tears hidden by the salt water and rain. Disguise which might save my outward dignity, but inwardly I have nothing left to hid. I am lost – abandoned by hope and love.

Interesting how neatly real-life and fiction fold into each other, such as air being folded into a soufflé. Which is the truth here, and which is fiction or a little bit of my personal world brought to make my character empathetic and easy to relate to?

“goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend”

I am feeling fat and swollen – it is either menopause or pregnancy, I am not sure which would be the most welcome !!…
or it could always be some terrible disease such as those of old used to die of – but somehow I don’t think so.
I am just fat, under-exercised and stressed.

The cruelty of the situation is though that my skin is stretching and I am experiencing flutterings, enacting a phantom pregnancy. Not enough though to be, just a “virtual” one - like my novel. This said, this reminder from nature about a state of female being, and a state of womanhood that is long-since gone, can be used to good effect in my fiction. So instead of being a sad echo of a world that has passed, it is something my character can experience first hand – an inspiration to make my character exist in her own right – a metaphor for giving birth…

As I recall – almost as difficult as writing !!