by Orna Ross | Jun 17, 2011 | Fiction |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter One: Letter to Self ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tall gates glide open to receive us. Hagan, Mack's chauffeur, slides the Bentley over the speed bumps all the way along the avenue. ‘Sleeping policemen', Mack says. ‘What?'...
by Orna Ross | Jun 10, 2011 | The Rest |
Do you like reading fiction? Over the next year or so, as I write my new novel, I'm going to be sharing it episode by episode here in the blog. I'm really excited about this experiment — seeing how many of you choose to read along and seeing what effect writing...
by Orna Ross | Apr 18, 2011 | The Rest |
In his writer's notebook, 1932-1933, Henry Miller, an author with a deep sense of process, laid down his ‘commandments' of writing. Here they are adapted to whatever it is you want to create: Work on one thing at a time until finished. Don’t be nervous. Work...
by Orna Ross | Mar 27, 2011 | Poetry |
The Writer's Call: “…I work for you kind reader, dear,/who walks my words across the page,/who seeks clear ground in paths I’ve made…” Speechless: “…Kings will do/what kings do. Soldiers too./And if you don't want to know, I won’t...
by Orna Ross | Mar 16, 2011 | The Rest |
When you need to be creative or innovative, try this simple break-the-box, mind-body bridging exercise from Dr Stanley H Block. Part 1: The Box. 1. Name the specific situation that makes you feel boxed in. 2. Take a piece of paper, write the situation in the middle...
by Orna Ross | Mar 12, 2011 | Poetry |
The Writer's Call: A Poem Your words must clear the ground for love, I heard it all declare. I kissed my pen, swore this decree to air. Then set to work on bended knee, a childlike creep through house and street, to clean through what’s encrusted there. It’s done for...
by Orna Ross | Nov 14, 2010 | Poetry |
By Lucille Clifton. why is what i ask myself maybe it is the afrikan in me still trying to get home after all these years but when I wake to the heat of morning galloping down the highway of my life something hopeful rises in me rises and runs me out into the road and...
by Orna Ross | Oct 31, 2010 | Poetry |
In the amber of a late October, altered by illness and a mauling from friends, we have come again to London, and come one to the other, in truth, it seems, for the first time in twenty-something years. These are our days. Above, white lines from Heathrow streak the...
by Orna Ross | Oct 21, 2010 | Poetry |
“How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once ‘the very wish Partook of the sublime.' Then tell me how! Don't put me off With your ‘another time'!” — “And would you be a poet Before you've been to school? Ah,...
by Orna Ross | Sep 28, 2010 | Poetry |
Her name? Her name is Generose, here is how her story flows: through the latest news of war our ruler coming out to say ‘Bombs Again!' Though his minions' mincing words, force-feeding what ‘we' need to do, and why, (with regret) some evil people (and some...