I have a photograph of a lovely long wooden table which I look at sometimes, imagining the stories I would like to write, sitting there, while sunlight filters gently through the trees outside to warm me.

I have libraries of music and imagery to set my mood.

I dream all the time about what I want to write, the impression I want to create, the covers of books I want to publish.

And then I sit down and write what I can actually write. Because nothing matters except the doing it.


mel said...


i know.

of course, you know that i know...but i said it anyway.


Mrs. Estvold said...

the doing it...isn't that the truth...and look at her, doing, feminine under a lycan moon...

sarah elwell said...


so lovely to know that people know.