The malaise of food-fuddled brain activity over the holiday period can get as tiresome as having guilt over metalicised wrapping paper disposal and its horrifying effect on the environment (!).
Worse still is the guilt over not writing over the Holidays. Each activity, say peeling sprouts or arguing with one’s relatives or traversing the country to see said relatives, is weighed up against how that time could have been spent productively writing. Ultimately, the writer must be a selfish beast. Must be.
Anyway, today I am heartened and feel the fug lifting (though London is somnolent today under the snow clouds) as I have just read Deepak Chopra rant intelligently in defense of expansive thinking:
http://tinyurl.com/ydcfeul
Most pertinently “… And the point of such a debate? To further public knowledge about the actual frontiers of science, which has always depended on wonder, awe, imagination, and speculation. Petty science of the…”
Wonder, awe, imagination and speculation. This sounds like four anchors for the making of a good story. Art and Science are long-lived bedfellows. The ‘frontier’ of novel writing: expand upon, regenerate, break boundaries, don’t be frightened of the blank page; write some words…
