Mostly that is all I want to say this morning, but since words are my playthings and I’m a navel-gazer to the core, I’ll add this:
Lately I’ve been obsessing on what book to write next. Ideas are many. Time is fleeting. I want to write the right one–a book that fits with who I am as a writer and one that leads me forward into the career I want.
I’ve been yearning for focus. Couldn’t I be like Ellen Hopkins–a master of a particular kind of story.
Then I think of Geraldine McCaughrean. I’m currently reading her book Stop the Train. It is equally brilliant as The White Darkness but a totally different kind of book. She’s a gifted word smith and story-teller in both works, but stylistically and topically, each is utterly unique.
I wish I’d written The White Darkness. I wish I were that good. But at least I can aspire to McCaughrean’s skill at realistic world-building and her flexibility with the form.