All items: Anna Reynolds

Maybe nobody would sit around in coffee houses... They'd WhatsApp discussion topics and circulate e-petitions; they'd form online groups and spend their lives and energy having to defeat abusive trolls.

Cynthia Rogerson takes us on a wry and rueful whistlestop tour of the perils, pleasures and pitfalls of the writing life, for both writers and those who have to put up with them.

Anna Reynolds encounters a perplexing dilemma when an ostensible writing necessity, the ‘room of one’s own’, becomes an obstacle to progress instead of a creative oasis.

When I'm writing a play I do sometimes imagine the audience reacting to a particular moment but not usually by vomiting, as happened once, or starting a fight.
At school I used to swallow a book in the lunch hour, and now I can do two in that same time. It doesn't feel good. I race through them, unable to slow my reading speed down.
I'm sure it happens to people in other professions too, though."You don't want to open him up there, Doc; you should go in through the stomach, much less messy!"
How it feels when I do it is how I imagine flying would feel to a bird; sometimes just what I do, sometimes an utter freedom.
Soon you're writing articles of your own, furiously opinionated and probably ill-informed. You ask a local paper to print your words. They laugh at you, kindly, but it stings. You give up, briefly.
  • 1
  • 2