like a rock

Yesterday, I took part in a local literary festival. Originally, I had been invited to read a short set of poetry during one of the sessions; then one of the speakers was ill so she dropped out, and, at the last minute, I was asked to step in and give a talk. And I do mean the last minute. I got a text message on Friday afternoon to give me advance warning that my help might be needed: maybe I could give a short talk on poetry or translation? I duly rustled up some old notes on the latter and thought about changes I’d need to make so it would suit the audience.
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across the world

As anyone who sees this on a desk top and looks beyond the posts to the surrounding information will have realised, I do a lot of writerly things other than this blog. There’s the Modern Pagan Prayers project, other books and author mentoring, as well as online courses and occasional workshops.

Apart from the workshops and book mentoring, which actually need me to show up in person, most of the activities can just tick over without any input, so it’s all fairly relaxed: I don’t go out of my way to market the books and courses – they just sit somewhere online and get found (or not). So, occasionally, I receive a small quantity of “passive income”.
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pause for pedantry

Often, as I surf the internet, I find phrases, badly cropped headlines, verbal ambiguities, and punctuation failures that bring me up short and make me pause. When this happens, I tend to take a screenshot of the offending – or amusing – text and store it off to one side.

The intention is then to write about it on the blog, but sometimes I completely forget. Which is why the images in this post are from a whole range of contexts. While some of them are not particularly recent, I think they are probably still worth commenting on.
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rumours of spring

My co-author, Lucía, and I are still working on the final pieces for the third of the Modern Pagan Prayers books, which will include pieces for each of the eight festivals of the wheel of the year.

We’re definitely on the home straight, but the last few weeks haven’t been very productive, not least because it’s not particularly easy to write about summer and harvest time in the middle of winter when temperatures are sub-zero or the wind is wuthering and the rain is soldiering down.
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unseen & unseasonal

So, in the last post – in vino veritas – I was whining and whingeing on about the neverending nothingness and nonoccurrences of the coronavirus lockdown and bemoaning my own lack of life and liberty (never mind the chance to pursue any happiness).

Then I ended up finding a bright sunrise at the bottom of a wineglass. And that got me thinking…
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