When is Writing Writing?
When is Writing Writing?

When is Writing Writing?

Saturday 18th November 23

Over the last few weeks I have desperately been trying to find time to write. I’ve managed it two or three times but it’s been so frustrating, because I’ve been producing the scripts for the crib service, three small plays for advent, and this morning a loose script for our Advent Calendar at the pub!!!!!

Thinking about it, I’ve actually done loads of writing, just not on the new books. In my mind, writing is when I work on the novels. They are the words notched up for when I am being a proper author. But I think I need to give myself a good talking to – I know, again! Any writing is good practice, good experience. Anything that involves editing, crafting and producing a final edition is writing. And I’m quite excited about the crib service this year, as I have collaborated with our children and families worker, Bethany Stanton. She is good at seeing the drama of a scene, of being able to bring them to life, with a few good props and a couple of tweaks. For the first time ever, we start with Mary, Jesus’ mum, and Elizabeth, her aged cousin, who is also having a miracle baby, John the Baptist as it happens. Elizabeth’s story is a wonderful part of the Christmas story. She is the one who Mary runs to, when she discovers she’s pregnant. Another woman, an older woman to share her story, to share all her worries and concerns with. A woman who has also encountered God in a mind-boggling-life-changing way.

Yes, I do want to finish work(!) on the new books, and start writing number 4 of the Anna Maybury series, but I must not forget what a privilege it is to produce and then see acted out, 4 plays this Christmas, even if they are ever so small. My definition of being a writer must be bigger, looser, less narrow. Like a wide winter sky.

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Watching You Fall
The Lizard peninsula is known for its beautiful scenery and tourist attractions, but all is not so idyllic for Revd Anna Maybury, vicar of the most southerly parish of mainland Britain. Much of Anna’s little flock are dealing with their own problems, and when the wife of a local architect is found dead in the churchyard, each of them has to come to terms with the fact that they may be living with a murderer. The year will take them to the very edge of their insecurities and relationships and beyond to the conclusion that we are never truly what we seem...
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