Category: inspiration

Keep it short

So I sat at my dining room table yesterday, chair in, back straight, legs crossed, phone in hand, and I sexted.

100 sexts.

All very short. Easy writing.

Today I sat down to work on my book. Same book I’ve been working on for years. I used to write a few pages a day. Then, a page a day. That became a paragraph. Now, a couple of sentences.

These days I write short.

A few words and I’m done.

It’s the times we live in. It’s not that I don’t want to write lots anymore. I can’t. I am so distracted and I know it’s because of this digital age.

It’s the same as reading. I used to get through four books a month Now, if I get through one I think it’s fabulous and I tell everyone I know, hey hey, I read a book.

We have all become used to short.

And we’re all distracted. Apparently it’s something about our brains and dopamine and we see one thing but there’s something else to look at and our brains get excited and unfocused and let me just check my emails and look at twitter and one more tweet and oh let me see that article and that video and….


I am not in a panic. It is what it is.

And I have decided that I don’t need to write books. Or stories. Or even blogs.

I can just stick to titles.

Here are some that I did today.

Other peoples shoes.                                       Fashion.
This chocolate ice cream.                               A love story.
I want him, now.                                             Erotica.
Get yourself that frock.                                   Inspirational.
I dropped my last valium.                             Horror.
I got dressed for gym.                                     Memoir.
I also want to climb the Trump Tower.     Fitness.
The whisky bottle is empty.                           Disaster.

Much better. Easy to write, easy for you to read, everyone’s happy, go check Facebook, look at Instagram, and hey, look at that tweet, cool, thanks, see ya, oh man, is this my blog, where am I, what was I even writing…



Today in the park Ruby met a bulldog called Alice, Fred joined a family picnic, Scarlet swam and chased the ducks while I sat and shared stories with an old lady on a bench.

Her jacket was folded carefully alongside her, her church hat placed neatly in her lap, and her stockinged feet crossed demurely at the ankles.

She told me:

It’s the first time in ten years that I’ve ever taken my shoes off in the park.


And then she laughed uproariously.

Freedom, she said, feels good.


Every day

Make art
Write a poem
Eat cake
Take a bath
With bubbles
Have sex
Have more sex
Have all the sex
Make it messy
The sisterhood of women.
And some fabulous men.


Everything is fine

I have spent this morning giggling.

I didn’t really mean to but the man sitting at the table next to me was laughing. And laughing is contagious and so first I smiled, then I giggled a little, and then I started laughing too.

I know this man.

He never laughs. He glares.

We have a vague social connection, ex-husbands and ex-wives, and have had the odd Sunday lunch together. He’s always been a grouch.

I couldn’t resist. I went over to his table and said:-

In twenty years I have never known you to laugh.

He laughed.

You know what, Violet, he said. I’m happy. I am actually finally exceptionally happy.

We both stopped laughing at that moment.

It’s taken him like a lifetime to be happy.

What’s your secret, I asked?

I had to change or I would have died, he replied. I needed everything to be just fine.

He explained how he had always been that negative person. The food was never good enough, the company sucked,  wine could’ve been better, the country was fucked, he found the bad in everything. He was depressed and miserable and one day he realised he didn’t want to be that person anymore.

I suspect he also went for therapy and may well be taking drugs, but good for him if he is.

What about you, he asked?  You always seem happy.

I laugh a lot, I said.

I think I do what he never used to do.  I take joy in food, friendships, coffee and the weather except when it is really bloody cold.  I love the smell of freshly baked bread, wearing a new frock, the wind in my hair, the moon, the everything.

I hardly ever glare. But I also use laughter as a cover up.

When someone asks me how I am,  like he did, I should not say ‘everything is just fine.’

I should say:

I get scared, I worry about money, my dog is old,  the man I was dating turned out to be a cunt, I’m struggling to trust men, I think I’ve put on a kilo, my nail broke, what’s going to happen with this country, the shower door needs fixing, I hate grocery shopping, I’m finding it really hard to…

Maybe not all at once!

We need to find a balance.  Between the glares and the giggles.

To find a way of everything  really being just fine.

Because the opposite is too scary to contemplate.


Sweet sixteen

This year let’s:-

Talk to strangers, eat more chocolate, feed ducks, kiss under lamp posts, kiss anyway, be kind, be wonderful, make pancakes, wear sequins, use condoms, listen well, drink champagne, swim naked, fall in love, wear red, use spell check, eat vegetables, be indulgent, be lovely,  ban fireworks, use neck cream, throw confetti and most importantly, put flowers in our hair!

Happy 2016 everyone.  May it be sweet for all.