I saw a writers’ meme (?) on Facebook the other day.
I reposted it and tagged my husband, apologising, because there have been many times when I am writing something and I burst out mid-sentence, reading what I’ve written out loud. He immediately understood what it meant. I told him I’d wait to be alone in future and his response was, “Nah. You won’t. You’ll just forget about it in the moment, and just go on reading out loud as you normally do.”
I am ashamed to say that he’s probably right.
Writer’s Write does a few of
I start my days with checking in on Facebook. This is probably not very wise since Facebook is the epitome of a black hole for time. Nevertheless, I started out this Monday morning with a scan of my news feed and spotted the post which said that Banned Books Week started on Sunday the 22nd. That’s this week!
It seems a little sad that I have never heard of this awareness campaign before this year. It seems as if it ought to be something every reader (and writer) should be aware of. The practice of banning books is
When you think of reading, you think of a solitary activity, don’t you? I do. Reading has always been a solo venture for me. Of course, in the beginning, I had to have help with it – my mother would read to me, or help me read for myself by pointing out errors in pronunciation or helping me with context by either explaining words that I didn’t understand, or later on, pointing me towards the massive Concise Oxford that sat on the bookshelf. Still, none of that was particularly social. It was more a matter of supervised, or