Everyone has their preferred writing space. Somewhere they go and get their ideas flowing. Any dedicated writer has a pad and pen to hand 'cause you never know when inspiration will strike.
When I was younger my mum used to complain about ink stains in my bed. I couldn't help it. Just before I went to sleep, the ideas were hits me. I would stay up all night writing and sometimes... erm... didn't make it to school the next time.
Now, I have to be more responsible as I have bills to pay. My general writing spot is infront of my PC. My desk is still littered with traditional notepads and two pens (in case one runs out).
This Saturday, I was travelling to another country to visit my best friend (and head bridesmaid) to do a spot of wedding dress shopping. Somehow, I am juggling time for writing with planning a wedding and it is improtant to remember to return to the real world from time to time as real life forms the bases of many of our ideas. On this occasion though, I was travelling by train. Although my mind was anxiously worrying about whether I would find my pefect dress or not.... my imagination had runaway with werecats and werewolves and I found myself digging out a trusty notebook and by the time the train had pulled in at the station I had practically written an outline for the final chapters of Instinct - just need to find time to type them up now, but at least I know how it ends.
When I was younger my mum used to complain about ink stains in my bed. I couldn't help it. Just before I went to sleep, the ideas were hits me. I would stay up all night writing and sometimes... erm... didn't make it to school the next time.
Now, I have to be more responsible as I have bills to pay. My general writing spot is infront of my PC. My desk is still littered with traditional notepads and two pens (in case one runs out).
This Saturday, I was travelling to another country to visit my best friend (and head bridesmaid) to do a spot of wedding dress shopping. Somehow, I am juggling time for writing with planning a wedding and it is improtant to remember to return to the real world from time to time as real life forms the bases of many of our ideas. On this occasion though, I was travelling by train. Although my mind was anxiously worrying about whether I would find my pefect dress or not.... my imagination had runaway with werecats and werewolves and I found myself digging out a trusty notebook and by the time the train had pulled in at the station I had practically written an outline for the final chapters of Instinct - just need to find time to type them up now, but at least I know how it ends.
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