energy muse does not have a variety of necklaces anymore

I wrote when I thought my characters had run out of steam. I wrote even when I had no idea what I wanted to say. And so, a few weeks ago I left my house every morning, drove to my office, left my phone (the distraction to end all distractions) in the car, and wrote. What I have learned, after all these years, is that the only way a novel gets written, even when (perhaps especially when) you feel stuck, is to sit down and write it. The kind of gobbledegook you can only write when you are actually still half-asleep. Also, it has never happened at night, probably because I like my bed far too much to leave it for anything other than a couple of barking dogs who some children have forgotten to lock inside for the night, and even then, I tend to lie there for at least ten minutes, praying that they will miraculously shut up all by themselves. I do keep a notebook next to my bed, just in case brilliance does strike, but usually, when I read it in the cold light of day, it is nonsensical. There are, admittedly, some days like this, but after twenty three years of writing novels, they are few and far between. I imagined writing to be the most deeply romantic of professions, presuming I would leap out of bed from time to time, inspired, spending the rest of the night huddled in front of my computer, typing furiously as the words flowed through my fingertips. Years ago, before I started writing, I thought that my muse would strike on a daily basis. My life was so busy! There were columns for The Lady that needed to be written! The house was too cold to get out of bed! My hair was the wrong colour! Clearly, my excuses were no longer working, and I needed to make a change. I had thoroughly enjoyed the first half, but had reached a point where I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next, and then life got in the way, and it started to feel more and more difficult to sit down and write. MoreĪ little while ago, I had half a novel completed. Sometimes all you can do is step back and let life wash over you. The novel is so much about how we yearn to fix things and fix people, but sometimes we cannot, no matter how hard we try.

I set the novel in 19, the time when the peace and love movement began to turn ugly, when Woodstock turned into Altamont and the Manson murders. I never forgot it, but until I was in a controlling relationship of my own years later (Google my story “The Grief Diet,”) I couldn’t understand how someone could stay. She says about the book: When I was 17, a friend of mine was murdered by her much older, more controlling boyfriend–someone she had been with for five years. As Lucy’s default caretaker for most of their lives, Charlotte’s youth has been marked by the burden of responsibility, but never more so than when Lucy’s dream of a rural paradise turns into a nightmare.Ĭruel Beautiful World examines the intricate, infinitesimal distance between seduction and love, loyalty and duty, and explores what happens when you’re responsible for things you cannot fix.Ĭaroline will be joining me live at my home – hooray – on March 15th at 8pm, where we will be chatting about the book, the writing life, and answering your questions. It’s 1969, and sixteen-year-old Lucy is about to run away to live off the grid in rural Pennsylvania, a rash act that will have vicious repercussions for both her and her older sister, Charlotte. As with all of our choices, this was one of my ABSOLUTE favorites of last year. Announcing our March book! Our next pick is Cruel Beautiful World by Caroline Leavitt.

Energy muse does not have a variety of necklaces anymore