Creative, or die trying!

Hello my dear ones,

A bit of a (belated) announcement first:  The anthologies as part of the summer UK authors/fans meet have release dates!  They are:

British Flash – to be published on 16th June as a free ebook
Contributing authors: Alex Beecroft, Stevie Carroll, Charlie Cochrane,
Erastes, Elin Gregory, Sandra Lindsey, Clare London, JL Merrow,
Josephine Myles, Zahra Owens, Caroline Stephens, Lisa Worrall and
Serena Yates. (And ME!  Although I am a very late addition, I’ll have a short-short story entitled “They Who Come After The Stories End” in this volume.  I still hate short titles.  More details yet to come, and more authors too!)

Tea & Crumpet – to be published by JMS Books on 3rd July as an ebook. Print copies should be available in time for the Meet. All profits to future UK meets.
Contributing authors: Alex Beecroft, Stevie Carroll, Jennie Caldwell,
Charlie Cochrane, Elin Gregory, Clare London, Anna Marie May, JL
Merrow, Josephine Myles, Zahra Owens, Jay Rookwood, Chris Smith, Lisa
Worrall and Serena Yates.

This is proper short stories.  As a result of my not having had time to bathe regularly in the last few months*, I don’t have anything written for it, but, obvy, I’m buying a copy anyway and so should you.  No, really, it means we can keep doing this every year/every few years!

*I am not joking.  There were  a few weeks there where I honestly had to struggle to remember the last time I’d jumped in the shower.  My hair doesn’t need washing more than once or twice a week, so it took awhile to notice I’d turned into a human oil slick…


And for the nattering portion of this…I’ve been thinking a lot about who I surround myself with, and I’m very lucky.  First because I have awesome, loving, forgiving friends, but also because I have managed to find a place in which I can surround myself with creative people.  I have friends who are musicians, dancers, photographers, thinkers, writers — artists all, both professional and non-.  And it is magnificent.  (And not just because I get to feel more bohemian than I actually am.)  We egg each other on, and I know it damn well lights a fire under me when I’m out having a drink and someone asks me what I’m writing.  (The fact that I then mumble and offer to buy a round need not be remarked upon, thank you.)  They inspire my knitting, and make my writing legitimate in ways that even publishing can’t.  I have no idea if it works at all in return, but if nothing else, I’m there to think and talk and compare creating styles, and what we make, with.

I have to wonder if there’s a downside to this, because I’m that type of person, and because this is life — there are downsides to everything.  Part of it is probably things that are naturally me, saying that I’m just a knitter, or I just write genre fiction (let alone committing the great sin of writing erotic fiction!), because these things aren’t art the way music and ballet and photography are.  I would love to work as an artist’s model because then I can be a part of something higher than myself, by becoming a canvas, a projection of a vision.  It’s not fair that I dismiss what I do, but there it is.  I make things, but how creative am I, really?  This is a small downside, and I think I’d wonder these things no matter what, but it is there nonetheless.  It’s also easy to grow lazy, to excuse myself from working hard, both because I don’t rate myself so well and, weirdly, because I am so surrounded by people who work hard.  When I get into intensive discussions on queer space at dinner parties, it’s awfully easy to feel bohemian, and excuse not writing, or not designing, or things like that.  And that’s a big part of me too, the way I think about things, but it means I push away writing, which is pretty much a net bad thing.

So, it’s a balance.  But mostly — and this is why I love reading Kyle Cassidy‘s blog so much, because I think he feels the same way — I am so freaking lucky.  My life is amazing, and I’m so happy with how I’m living it.  And that is enough, to look around and comment on how awesome everything is.


And, finally and most seriously, Wouter Weylandt was laid to rest today, at far, far too young an age.  108, remembered always.  I’ll think of him and all my lovely boys on Team Leopard Trek when I hit the trail tomorrow.

Love and Kisses,



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