Author: Larry Winger

I’ve been part of a local writers group now for the past two-plus years. After the first year, I thought maybe I should drop out and concentrate on my novel work, because nobody really wanted to work on longer pieces. But I knew my heart lay in the more protracted effort. Our lovely tutor listened… Continue reading How wonderful are writing groups?

A question I don’t get asked too often, to be honest. But thank goodness for that — being a kind of incognito writer has its own advantages. Nobody really knows what you’re up to, and as you pursue your daily life, doing errands, a bit of DIY, taking care of the chickens, it’s easy to… Continue reading How’s the book going?

I’d like to think I’m an easy-going kind of guy, but I probably have my own shell of reserve within which I feel comfortable. But two components of accessibility have intrigued me over the past few days, and in exploring this matter I’ve discovered that readers’ access to content and to meaning may not be… Continue reading Being accessible

The Christmas cactus bloomed right on schedule this year, and then later, during the 12 days of Christmas, the snow fell all soft and fluffy. It’s the cusp time, when thoughts turn to the ambitions for the year ahead, after the reflections on the past one have been consolidated. I’ve written my first poem of… Continue reading That cusp . . .

It’s been a rather remarkable year, 2021, in my terms, on my terms, and by my terms. Though I have miles to go before I sleep, I think I might just put a list together of the product ‘wot I wrote’ over this twelve months: This particular ‘writer’s blog’ set up December ’20 — this… Continue reading End of year assessment

There is a splinter of ice in the heart of a writer. Graham Greene I’ve got a writing problem that seems to mystify my writing friends: my characters seem to be inordinately good souls. Apparently I need to learn how to create believably bad individuals — I need to hone that splinter of ice that… Continue reading Unbelievably good characters

I’ve had rather a few weeks of a hiatus, all in all, after the writing frenzy to get sufficient words ready for the Adventures in Fiction ‘New Voices: First Novel’ competition by the 14th September. Thereafter, it was a spell of poetry which was the only creative response I could manage while my father died.… Continue reading Back to the 1000 a day discipline

I grew up appalled at the concept of ‘manifest destiny’ though simultaneously I knew, and was proud of, my ancestors who pioneered homesteads on the great prairies of Saskatchewan at the turn into the 20th century. The Anabaptists always sequestered themselves apart from the state, but they weren’t averse to land exploitation schemes, and my… Continue reading Remembering heritage . . .

Half-way through our sojourn in the Outer Hebrides, in Harry Hymer (HarryCarrieAndMe.wordpress.com), we got the call that everyone dreads, though death really is a part of life. My father was dying. Within a couple of days, he was gone. A very full life, he lived, to the great age of 92, and it was a… Continue reading A death in the family . . .

While waiting for the shortlist for the New Voices, First Novels competition to be announced at Adventures In Fiction, and reckoning on venturing further into two developing novels (Biome NE47: Sequel, since you asked, and Keep Me in Your Heart) when we return from our Outer Hebrides adventure, there’s still lots of writing spheres to… Continue reading And so to other writing spheres . . .