Wendy Wallace – The Writer And Nature
Cliffs populated with soldier orchids, and purple thrifts, and sea hollies. Cliffs high enough to jump from, as the withered…
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Cliffs populated with soldier orchids, and purple thrifts, and sea hollies. Cliffs high enough to jump from, as the withered…
I am, if not addicted to words, at the very least word-dependent. One contributory factor to this word-dependence is the…
Since earliest childhood, when words first began to form riotous assemblies in my prissy and precocious little bonce, I have…
As a novelist, those stories I’ve set largely in the countryside have proceeded faster than those set in towns. As…
In dreams, I revel at the symbolism of shifting shapes. It takes a while to unpack meaning, and that is…
I’m rediscovering the reasons why I wanted to write in the first place; for the pleasure of creating and living…
The English version is in the bottom drawer, but the German translated version had a wonderful life at a theatre…
There has to be rejection, otherwise the poor readers of the world would be even more submerged in badly written…
Sometimes readers get in touch to tell me how they’ve been affected by things I’ve written. In the interchanges that…
The wonder and generosity in her books make them irresistible. Simply put, Susan Fletcher creates worlds I want to live…
I tend to read what I am trying to write. So, novels, when I am in the thick of a…
Rejection hurts because it is so personal. Your writing is you. You are naked and exposed. Rejection hurts because it…