A room of one’s own
Get these posts by email. Sign up here
-
The terrible and wonderful power of time.
We still delude ourselves we can control it. But, here’s the truth: we can’t. Children screw their eyes shut and wish it was Christmas three months early. Their parents watch the days flying past and wildly hope it will be cancelled this year. Holidays end too soon. Work days crawl towards home-time. Appointments written up…
-
Shoes, shoes everywhere.
I’ve been thinking, browsing, obsessing, even dreaming about shoes. But not with pleasure or anticipation. With sheer terror and sadness. Why? Because I can’t walk well in anything other than trainers. Even the walking shoes I was recommended make me stumble over my feet. Several months ago, I told myself with all the Pilates I…
-
The problem with Mary Sue
Is she appears in all of my stories. It was only recently pointed out to me that my books have a tendency to follow the same pattern: drop a girl into a difficult situation, and use her to fix it. Mary Sue: the perfect, capable miracle worker who no-one dislikes and has barely anything wrong…
-
‘The rat, on the other hand…
was running round the room busily, with his arms full of weapons…saying excitedly under his breath as he ran, ‘Here’s-a-sword-for-the-Rat, here’s-a-sword-for-the-Mole, here’s-a-sword-for-the-Toad, here’s-a-sword-for-the-Badger! Here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Rat, here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Mole-here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Badger!’ And so on, in a regular, rhythmical way, while the four little heaps gradually grew and grew.’ Reading this to my daughter last night, I was reminded of myself, and…
-
Apron strings
I only really remember one harsh time when I noticed being set adrift by my parents and I was already eighteen! My dad dropped me off at the student halls of residence in Glasgow, shut the door behind himself and. just. left. My heart dropped. Now I see his probably did too.
-
Don’t like the sadness
So you’ve probably seen two titles listed on my home page that are ‘pending’. I looked at them both today, and felt so depressed reading them I’ve realised something. The reason I write is to find and bring light into a mainly dark world. It may be that that aim will never get me published,…
-
Pink hair
She pulled her flowery handbag further up her loose-skinned arm, and fished out a squashed box of cigarettes. Her daughter, shaved head set defiantly forward just like her mum’s, looked at nothing. They were both dressed with nostalgia for the idyllic childhood they had never known: the mother in dyed pink hair and faded lilac…
-
The wild wood
It was a dark, terrifying place a fair walk away from the house in Donegal. My brother used to go there for an adventure. I never went, and perhaps for that reason, it became even wilder in my head. Foolishly I thought if I refused to go there, its skin-tearing brambles, suffocating bracken and dark…
-
Waiting for a rescue
This morning I said out loud what most just keep to themselves, ‘I wish someone would just tell me to lie back down and they’ll take care of everything.’ Of course I got up. Sitting here at the end of most busy things, I’m reminded about something…that full-on take-over rarely happens. But. Through every tough…
-
Walking in the sun – a sneak peek
My latest book, Walking in the Sun is now available for download on Kindle. Rachel is leaving all she knows to live in Nice, France for a year. When she accepts the offer of a studio in an apartment block she has no idea how much her life is going to change. Pulled into a…
Ruth Writes 