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11/10/2015 0 Comments Little black dogLittle black dog
Dancing at my heels Nose to earth Grounded. While I roam in imagined worlds Speak with voiceless people Dream with my eyes open. Little black dog Sniffing invisible trails Scents caught by the autumn rain A hidden world. My head fills with images Yours too?
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AuthorI spent most of my life not realising I was a writer. I just thought everybody's minds worked like mine. On some level I had a vague idea that the conversations with people who weren't there might just put me in the crazy category, so I kept quiet. Besides, the people in my head were usually more interesting which was never going to win me friends out there in the reality sphere. Fiction has always seemed to offer more interest than the real world and finally I realised - this is how writers think! Normal people don't have these thoughts. So, I had the imagination and the crazy thoughts. The only thing needed to turn me into a writer was to put pen to paper... Or, in my case, fingers to keypad. Here goes! Archives
January 2019
CategoriesAll Family History Family Letter Flash Fiction Ideas Little Black Dog Poem Story Tweets To Bill Work In Progress Writing |
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