Yesterday, I bought a book design program as a download, which I cannot find on my computer. I've sent 2 emails to the company, Jera Publishing, so far to no avail. Have I been had? I hope not. In the meantime I wrote a back page blurb for the memoir.
Today, having decided it's too cold to do aqua aerobics (it's outside for the next 2 weeks) I looked forward to a day of doing something creative. Over a cup of tea I turned on Stvdio. Angel at My Table was playing in its entirety. I saw it so long ago it was as if I was seeing it for the first time. I couldn't tear myself away, even through all the credits. I'd forgotten Jane Campion directed it. She and Kerry Fox who played Janet produced a masterpeice.
I looked at it more through (dare I say it) a writer's eyes this time. I doubt that Janet Frame ever had an inbuilt editor (like I do) when she wrote. I need to find that state of grace where words on the page are all that matters, not whether the spelling is right or if it is grammatically correct. That can come later. NANO is good for that and I found Jan Cornall's meditation sessions hlepful in achieving that. But I don't do it at home. Maybe I should resort to sitting in cemetaries or on a windswept hill with my notebbok and pen like Janet did.
It's not surprising that Janet Frame was also a poet. I find the poets in our writing group are able to tap into the inner beauty or sadness of something so well. Is there room for an organised, practical beast like me in the world of literature I wonder.
Maybe I'll tackle that pesky synopsis and re-work the marketing plan today.
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