One of the great wonders of writing is the gift it gives to arise from the ashes.
I always try to be honest in these blogs - what's the point of them, otherwise? - so here's a tricky truth. It's one I've been whispering quietly to myself, but now am reconciled sufficient to write...
I've been lucky enough to have seven crime novels published, and it's like this - I'm getting a little bored.
Not with writing, you understand. That relationship retains the passion we've always shared, and I hope always will. No, I mean with the genre.
It's quite a confession, as crime writing has served me so well. It got me published, which lead to teaching, and talks, and travel and all the people I've been lucky enough to meet over these glorious years.
And it's a truth I've been struggling with. But now I think I'm emerging from the fog, and that's the point of this blog.
Because that's one of the joys of writing. Bored with one genre? Then try another... and there are so many to choose from.
I've sketched out a young adults' novel, which I love, and have plans to try a few short stories, and suddenly... the clouds shift and the sun shines anew.
The Writing Phoenix has spread her wings and taken to the sky.
On the subject of which, a quick visual interlude, because it's light and bright and reminds me of the shared joy of writing -
... and also my bad taste in shirts; on this occasion seemingly so awful that it's sent poor Karin Bachmann giddy (thanks to her for the photo. It's from this year's Swanwick Writers' School, and the dapper gent, who knows how to dress properly, is Michael O'Byrne, the chairman.)
Anyway, back to the point of the blog, and my new friend, mentor, ally and muse... the Writing Phoenix.