
I get a lot of letters from people. They say: “I want to be a writer. What should I do?” I tell them to stop writing to me and get on with it.
– Ruth Rendell

I get a lot of letters from people. They say: “I want to be a writer. What should I do?” I tell them to stop writing to me and get on with it.
– Ruth Rendell
https://geediting.com/the-120-most-helpful-websites-for-writers-in-2016/
To make the list easier to navigate, the entries are broken down into 14 different categories so you can jump right to the area you are looking for.
The 14 categories are:
Looking for some inspiration in your writing? Writers in the Storm is the answer to getting you back on track. This easy to navigate website contains a well-developed writing blog filled with tricks of the trade, as well as an extensive resource list to guide you in the right direction.
Writers Helping Writers is more than just a blog filled with useful tips to enhance your writing. This website also includes book reviews on various writing topics and an impressive “One Stop for Writers” library which provides all the resources you’ll need through every step of the writing process.
Known as the nation’s largest nonprofit that serves creative writers, this digital version of Poet & Writers magazine is the jackpot of writing resources. Along with an extensive library of articles, you can also connect with other like-minded artists to share ideas and gain insight into your work.

Leg by Katherine
“This was well known to the ancients, who we like to imagine as being a lot less smart than we are. “He who learns must suffer” says Aeschylus:
He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.

While Mary sat in the kitchen on a large pine chair looking at Hotter’s latest shoe catalogue,Annie was creeping up the garden path in a pair of turquoise suede elegantly heeled shoes matching her teal tencel culottes and matching blouse.Round her neck was a large lump of amber on a gold chain handy for beating off muggers or lustful men
Despite the heat she was in full splendour with golden beige tinted moisturiser from Langone of Lyons on her lovely complexion,pink eyeshadow from Yves St Current and dark brown boot polish as her mascara had run out and she’d not been out for a while to buy more
Annie ran the last few yards and darted like an eel into Mary’s 1970’s kitchen.
What on earth are you doing,dear? Mary asked her.Those shoes look unsuitable for leading anyone up the garden path.Mind you,I do like them
Oh,I’ll explain,Annie said huskily.
I told that therapist across the road I was living with you.
What exactly do you mean by living,Mary asked anxiously.
Well,he said yesterday that anyone who lives alone must be lacking in some way.Except for him of course as he had full analysis with Alfred Zion.
You mean Wilfred Bion,Mary told her.
Zion,Bion,what’s the difference?
It shows your lack of education,Mary told her.Not that education nowadays makes much difference when almost anyone can get a 1st or 2.1.After all would you pay £90,000 for a third class degree in Aeronautical Engineering?
That’s not quite what I would have done, said Annie.A degree in flirtation and pleasing men would be more up my street.And cooking of course although I once did have an interest in Hebrew and Aramaic.
It’s not a way to progress in a neo-liberal economy,although reading the Hebrew Bible is always interesting.Personally I prefer that to the New Vex-a man.The stories,the love songs,the action.Mary’s round eyes gleamed with intellectual life and a bit of languorous lust
How about God? Annie asked her.
He seems to have changed as he related to his people.But he was a friend despite being an abstract concept.Though one could hardly call him a concept as he is inconceivable.
Mary’s voice faltered as she was stunned by her own articulacy and wondered what she might say next that could offend millions around the globe.
You should write a book,Annie said kindly.
I think I am ill-equipped to write about God.And ,also ,I am saddened to see how his own people have been treated.I can’t dwell on it over much as I already feel weak and weepy.
Why what have you been doing,asked Annie.
I have been sorting out clothes to give to the hospice shop. I’ve got a big bag
full already and 2 bags of newspapers and rubbish of various kinds which somehow creeps into my bedroom… tissues,cotton wool, old hairbrushes.I am hoping to get it nice and neat before my sister comes to see me in August.And no doubt she will not be happy even then.She’d like me to buy a small new house with a lovely bathroom and kitchen. But I don’t want to leave my neighbours behind.If I won the lottery I could get the neighbours to move as well.Love thy neighbour etc
And now I realise I have far too many pans despite burning several.But it’s a big decision for a woman who was famed for entertaining friends with scorching Beef Vindaloo and lemon mousse that tasted like rubber.Giving that up is a big wrench.
Why can’t you carry on, asked Annie.
Carrying on is precisely why I can’t do it.Now I am a widow the wives of my former colleagues and my own women friends are afraid I will steal their husbands.
Emile miaowed in ecstasy as any talk about the love lives of his family were always intriguing.He was hiding as usual behind the stone flour bin.
Don’t you see,said Annie.If we pretend we are living together then you can mingle with men without suspicion.
This is beginning to sound like a spy story,Mary told her.And do not drag me into a character part in the play based on your romantic love for that psychoanalyst.
He looks ugly and boring to me.
Oh,that’s just a projection,Annie told her.You are defending yourself against acknowledging how much you long to lie in his arms and let him smother you in kisses.
Well,said Mary,I see you have been reading Freud for beginners again.
Or is it Freud for Dummies?
Mary recalled how nice her dummy used to taste when it was dipped into a jar of malt and codliver oil.Maybe that is the answer,she thought.
I’m going to Mothercare,she called as she ran out of the house in her green trainers and denim trouser suit.See you later.
Annie sat in the kitchen wondering how soon she could see the psychoanalyst again without being accused of sexual harassment.Even old age has not deterred her from seeking a replacement for dear old Stan.A few tears ran down her cheek and Emile jumped out and sat on her knee.
I saw, while half asleep, her face was gone
She faded, like the river mist at dawn,
From the gallery of my sacred ones
Ungrounded by the loss, fearful, forlorn,
Skinless like a worm picked off a lawn,
I saw, while half asleep, her face was gone
Do not leave me, do not my love scorn
Lost and gone are my beloved ones
I am human in both ghost and form
Heart constricted, lungs convulsed with pain
Haunted and bereft of human warmth
I saw, while half asleep, her face was gone
I shall have no mother but that one
Now I have become a dried out corm
Lost and gone are all my precious ones
Like a little leaf from its plant torn
Gnawed by slugs, fragmented till unborn
I saw, while half asleep, all trace was gone
In the holy space of my heart’s ones
Small pasta
Frozen peas
Cream optional………
or Natural yoghurt
Grated cheese
Butter if desired
Any small frozen vegetable can be added to pasta
Boil the pasta and drop in peas for 4 minutes.Drain.Add cheese ,butter /cream/yoghurt.Put onto a warm plate. Eat with cherry tomatoes or whatever you have got
A peaceful solitude can be a joy.
A softer breath, a slower beat of heart.
While our minds are happy unemployed.
As it was for growing girl or boy
Before the throes of adolescence start
A peaceful solitude can be a joy.
When puberty arrives it is no toy
As, from our families, we soon will part
Though our minds are happy unemployed.
We do not wonder what our life is for
Or try to write a CV super smart
A peaceful solitude, remembered joy.
Tormented people can be a great bore
Unless we love them fully from the heart
Their minds are never happy unemployed.
I wonder who knocked down the apple cart
Thus God cried out and topped the EU chart
A peaceful solitude can be a joy.
When our minds with God are unemployed.

When we’re born, it’s then we see the Light
After travelling squashed and so malformed
Through a tunnel like those fairground frights
With no-one else to keep us well informed
No bus stop,no rail station,no train track
There’s only one direction, which is out
The walls themselves gyrate behind our back
Some are struck and stuck by fearsome doubt
The head is squeezed, the brain protests with fear
The body’s like a fish stuck in a spout
Here there are no fall back engineers
No drain inspector, plumber to call out.
Yet by luck or fortune most emerge
To light a-dazzle and to love amazed
A silence rich with love and full of joy;
The silence after waking at the dawn,
May be both anchor and a steady buoy
Yet often we don’t know what we seek for:
The latest dress, the perfect English lawn?
We forget this marvellous essence, full of joy
We murder by ignoring love’s own core
We do not see the buds which are new born.
We want an anchor yet we want our toys.
What is most arresting is the awe
We feel when we survive deep grief again
Find silence rich with love and full of joy
Out of Nature, its Creator calls
Taking in her arms what caused us pain.
Being both an anchor and a buoy.
The silence underneath the silence calms,
Stills our breathing with reviving balm
Perfect silence rich with love and joy
Shall be our an anchor and shall be our buoy.
https://gettingmore.com/work/terrorisms-roots-lie-in-economics
The roots of terrorism lie not in the mosques that stretch from western Africa to the Himalayas, but rather in refugee camps, beggar-laden streets and rubble-strewn villages where food is scarce or rotten, diseases are poorly treated and hope is reserved for the afterlife.
My travel to more than 60 countries makes it clear that economics, not religion or politics, is the source of terrorists’ power. This includes as a Jew working in Arab nations for the U.N.
Poverty and lack of meaningful choices create millions of sympathizers and supporters for the few murderers. Many of the rest just don’t care; for them the U.S. is far from their daily lives and provides no comfort.
This means a violent war on terrorism alone – without providing a better alternative for supporters will fail.”
| synonyms: | absurd, ridiculous, foolish, stupid, ludicrous, farcical, laughable, comical, risible, hare-brained, asinine, inane, nonsensical, pointless, senseless, insane, unreasonable, irrational, illogical; More |
| antonyms: | reasonable, sensible |


| synonyms: | excuse, false excuse, ostensible reason, alleged reason, plea, supposed grounds;More |
Under what pretext are you doing this stupid thing
I never heard of Pre-texting.Do I phone to tell them before I send a text?
He keeps prevaricating.
Ask him to get on with the varicating asap
Your behaviour is preposterous.
Wait till I get posterous then!
I have prepaid dinner
Do you mean prepared?
Yes,I pared the carrots but then decided to take you out.I prepaid the bill
Isn’t that a bit weird.You don’t know how much we will spend
I do know how much we won’t spend!
Are you blackmailing me?
That is racist.
But everybody says that.I saw it in a thriller.
Is that a proof?
Not yet but it might be a pre-proof.
Then we have post-proof.
Don’t post it on a church door or we might have another Enlightenment
Seems like we may need one.
But it might just get nasty.
You mean it’s not nasty already?
Well,I’m all right,Jacques.
I am not French.
Not yet

https://gettingmore.com/work/why-must-we-hate-ourselves-so
Extract
We have created a society so broken that almost anyone can buy guns and kill the most defenseless among us, while adults go on national television and say gun control laws are fine.
We let children grow up seeing the most grotesque forms of violence in video games, cartoons and movies — beheadings, mutilations — and yet it causes a national uproar when for a few seconds an actress’ breast is exposed on TV, that is, the body part where mother’s milk comes from.
Whether on the sports field or on the street, trivial arguments wind up in fistfights or worse, and dozens join in. We speak horribly to each other in stores, in restaurants, in travel, and then wonder why our country drops to 7th in competitiveness because we no longer give each other our best ideas.
We solve our problems by conflict in almost every aspect of our lives – families, business, politics, social settings, and everyone seems to think it’s OK. “Tude,” for “attitude,” for being rude to others, is considered cool. There are whole TV shows about it. The most visible role models fight other people to vanquish them. And then we wonder why confused people think it’s OK to kill children.
We kick people off planes with odd clothes and accents but forget that most big crimes are committed by those who look and speak just like us, taught by our own culture of violence and conflict. We’ve killed or exploited so many innocent people abroad, and wonder why others retaliate against us. Trillions of dollars that could be used for our own progress is wasted on wars we could have solved in other ways.
It is not necessary for our enemies to beat us. We are beating ourselves. We cannot even agree on a set of national priorities that helps most citizens, and we cannot even agree on how to best spend our limited funds. We are going over a cliff and are too busy bickering about it to put on the brakes or swerve out of harm’s way. Meanwhile, rich people steal billions of dollars from those scraping by and financial institutions mislead us all and it’s treated as an intellectual exercise for policy discussion. In other words, hateful behavior might somehow be OK, or OK enough to debate about it.
We are capable of so much that is great, in the arts, in science, in human relations, but it is all but drowned out because we can no longer judge right from wrong. We tolerate a system that once would never have been acceptable. When the history of our civilization is finally written, it will say that we deserved what we got, we reaped what we sowed. Because, ultimately, when things went bad, there were not enough good men and women who stood up, at whatever personal effort, and said, ENOUGH!
(This piece was published on Huffington Post.)
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/aug/08/frugal-bloggers-budget-personal-finance-poverty
I have read this and agree there is a big difference between well off people being frugal and people who are really very poor and have little choice.There is no direct connection between frugality and holiness
Some ways I have found to save money
[Don’t go without a warm coat and wool hat in winter.Cold thickens your blood and can cause heart attacks or strokes.[
1.Switch to a digital subscription to a newspaper.For the Guardian it is £11.99 a month rather than buying in a shop… £65 a month.
The Guardian will let you read a lot for free
2 Use dishcloths and tea towels instead of kitchen paper.
Cut up old underwear and use for cleaning bathroom etc.
Try using hankies except when you have a cold.
3 Shower less and use a sponge to wash yourself while standing on a towel
4. Use a public convenience while you are out to save on your water bill.
5 In winter if you are not working sit in a public library and read the newspapers.The rooms are usually quite hot.
6 Wash your outer clothes less frequently.
7 Try soaking dry clean only clothes in cool water and then drip dry.I did this with a wool skirt I spilt milk on.
8 Food is a place you can save money.For example vegetarian recipes.Make your own yoghurt etc.
9.Ring your phone supplier and ask if they can do you a better offer as you are going to switch elsewhere if they refuse.I saved £20 pm
10.Meditate,listen to Radio 3, or 4 have tea with a neighbour…. all free.
11 Buy shoes in Sales.
12 Have people round but not the ones who expect a 3 course meal.Ones who like you and don’t mind what you feed them on,
13 Give some of your savings to charity.The RNIB is poor.Guide Dogs get loads of money ironically
People gossip and tell lies
Read the Sun and, unpaid, spy
As I drank the Precious Blood
I knew that Jesus understood
As I ate the Bread I knew
He has suffered like I do
I am human,I am true
I hope that this applies to you
If you used your mind and heart
You would never dwell in doubt
Don’t you have a happy life?
End the struggle,cease the strife
Christmas comes now and again
I lost my new diary and my pen
Calendars are new for you
Cameras….how do you do.
Christmas is sad with no man
Who used to bring me my tea
Share a tender kiss and love me?
It was not the milkman
Nor any type superman
All I know is his name started G
The Cool Web
Children are dumb to say how hot the day is,
How hot the scent is of the summer rose,
How dreadful the black wastes of evening sky,
How dreadful the tall soldiers drumming by.
But we have speech, to chill the angry day,
And speech, to dull the rose’s cruel scent.
We spell away the overhanging night,
We spell away the soldiers and the fright.
There’s a cool web of language winds us in,
Retreat from too much joy or too much fear:
We grow sea-green at last and coldly die
In brininess and volubility.
But if we let our tongues lose self-possession,
Throwing off language and its watery clasp
Before our death, instead of when death comes,
Facing the wide glare of the children’s day,
Facing the rose, the dark sky and the drums,
We shall go mad no doubt and die that way.

Are you sorry you lost your temper?
No,I am sorry it keeps coming back.
Are you amorous?
No,I am a moron
Are you sorry about your past
No,I am sorry about yours.
Are you sorry your swore?
Yes but I was under oath.
What is your New Year Resolution?
1960 x1270
What is high definition TV?
A talking dictionary with a screen
Who created the Messiah?
I didn’t do anything at all
My lover went to Lapland as he found me rather warm
You porcupine, he shouted out, I prefer a seal
Are you sure.I questioned him, for I did not wish him harm
I have to get away from you, I prefer my conger eel.
He set off in his motor car, the ferry was quite late
He was a little angry then but soon he became calm
He got talking to a mermaid and now she is his mate
She lives deep in the icy sea and he loves her frigid arms
I don’t know how you would feel, if after twenty years
Of being called a porcupine, when swaddled iin his arms
Your lover went to the North Pole, and left you only tears
At least I can enjoy my bed without his wild alarms
The melody is not the words but how they are combined
I have lost all faith in men , unless their names form rhymes
I know we have got clocks today but meter bends the time.
As dancing bends the space around the movers rapt, sublime
The sparrow chuckled in the Xmas tree
Cosy like a tea pot by the fire
He acted like an ornament for free
The golden coins are of no use to me
Although I do admit I am a liar
The sparrow chuckles in the Xmas tree
That little bird is laughing without fee.
A living bird is never out for hire
He acts just like an ornament, for free
Ancient decorations beautify.
The bird will wing, not linger on the wire
The sparrow chuckles in the green pine tree
I send love by blackbird’s litany.
Will golden ladybirds become a choir
And act like special ornaments for free?
The lamb shall love the golden lion entire
I kiss the falcon in its widening gyre
The sparrow shivers in the Xmas tree
He softly sings love voluntarily

Visit Mike at
http://home.btconnect.com/mike.flemming/
I see the wild geraniums, smell that scent
I feel all nature is embodied there
My heart is singing like the little birds in Dent
Into a mountain stream my lover went
The sheep then gathered for a wondering stare
I see the wild geraniums, smell that scent
When Easter comes,we heed the death of Lent
Soon leaves will cover hard ground winter bare
My heart is singing like the little birds in Dent
The limestone in the hills where walkers wend
Attracts me to the pavements flowered fair
I see the wild geraniums, smell that scent
From Alston down to Ullswater descend
The image of the tyrant mountains stares
My heart is singing like the little birds in Dent
How may we come to live as if we are
Kin to flowers, no longer conquerors?
I feel the wild geraniums, visceral scent
My heart is happy like the little birds in Dent
Limestone crags and pavements with wild flowers
My happiness was like their shape and form
West coast sun and West Wind Easter showers
Rambling on past broken Norman towers
Rams arrested us by curly horns
Limestone crags and pavements with wild flowers
Seems now I have wasted many hours
In libraries,in eagerness to learn
No West coast sun nor West Wind fragrant showers
Ingleborough, Dent , oh,down rain pours
Non-human universe, its love so stern
Limestone crags their pavements with wild flowers
Here there dwells a love Northern and pure
To which I’d give my eye teeth to return
West coast sun and West Wind softest showers
As children in our play we ignorant learn
Always sensing which way we may turn
On limestone crags and pavements with wild flowers
In West coast sun and loving Irish showers
r
A blue grey sky behind the willow tree
Almost dusk,it’s neither night nor day
Bare branches wave in timeless ecstasy
From high above, a forest is a sea
Where wilder creatures in their strange haunts play
Such dark grey sky behind the willow tree
Seems like nature’s making a strong plea
We’re joined as one yet separate in our ways
Bare branches show their timeless ecstasy
I wish to see like a wild falcon sees
I wish to pray like ancient saints might pray
To gods who dance within a shuddering tree
O exchange places with a lively bee
With nectar, pollen, golden dust to lay.
Bare branches share their timeless ecstasy
I saw the sea from cliffs above Lyme Bay
I saw the lights from far,so far away
A blue grey sky delights the willow tree
Bare branches rave in holy ecstasy
I’m going to go to prison for wasting my worktime
Instead of typing letters,I was learning Greek online
The police took my computer, saw Plato’s head divine
Then they saw my tablet,!Is studying the new crime?
Forty thousand letters,not French ones but Greek
I am an eager learner but I’ve lost the will to speak
I wonder why they searched it, who was it who leaked?
I don’t know how they spied on me as my mouse can’t speak
I also learned statistics,geology and Dutch
I just love to use my mind but maybe that’s too much
I should have learned humanities,I and Thou and such
I like Buber,Kierkegaard and eating Cornish Fudge
Beware of using laptops which don’t belong to you
Or you might well go to jail with a bucket for a loo.
Still,learning is not murder, mindless we turn blue
Ask your fellow workers and do just what they do.
Spend your day om gossip, smoke while in the loo
Slander all your enemies and slander your friends too
Do just what you must each day, and never leave a clue
Do your learning from a book so no-one knows but you.
An unknown man has sent me roses fair
My name is wrongly spelled upon the box
Invisible,impossible, who cares?
Perhaps he wants to do what no man dares:
To learn statistics while he irons my locks
An unknown man has sent me roses fair
I hear a footstep on my creaking stair
Can it be a human or a fox?
Invisible in silence our hearts tear
I dream of mother calling out,beware!
She made me lots of cotton summer frocks
Lord, a man has sent me roses fair
Now my clothes are worn as is my hair
I have got more textbooks than wool socks
Invisibly, untimely, our hearts tear.
I wish I were a book inside a box
With no need for love or human touch
An unknown man has sent me roses fair
Unknowable,impossible to bear
Art by Katherine
http://www.kristeva.fr/the-kristeva-circle/trump.html
“The phenomenon of Donald Trump’s ascendency to become the 45th President of the United States is surely overdetermined, meaning that there are likely many different causes for this. The one I entertain here is I believe significant, though I do not argue that it is the main or only cause. But it is one we should consider and address. In short, I argue that the rise of Trump is in part due to a paranoid-schizoid politics found both in the personality of Trump himself and in a large-scale regression of many in the populace to a more primitive state of denial, splitting, and demonization, coupled with a syndrome of ideality. In other words, both Trump and his supporters split the world into good and bad (or SAD!!!! as Trump likes to tweet). In his inaugural speech he repeatedly demonized foreign powers and idealized America. His America first policy is textbook paranoid- schizoid: “We must protect our borders from the ravages of other countries making our products, stealing our companies and destroying our jobs.”
The Trump phenomenon shares much with many other nationalist politics on the rise around the world, but mostly an inability to tolerate difference and loss, including loss of a romanticized past or idealized future. Hence our politics today needs something that psychoanalytic theory has tried to offer: an understanding of how to work through trauma, loss, and persecutory phantasies. A politics of working through difficult choices and misrepresentations of others in our midst could help allay the paranoid politics that dominates politics today.”
After giving an account of the concept of working through in Freud, Klein, and Kristeva, I turn to the Trump phenomenon and then close with a brief account of a politics of working through.
I.
But because of the sadomasochistic nature of he drives, the adolescent’s belief in the ideal object is constantly threatened. Accordingly, Kristeva argues, “theadolescent is a believer of the object relation and/or of its impossibility.” [11] This gives rise to the ideality syndrome, the belief that there is a Great Other that exists and can provide absolute satisfaction. This is not just a syndrome that plagues teenagers: “We are all adolescents when we are enthralled by the absolute.” [12]Just as anyone can regress back to a paranoid-schizoid position, the temptation of ideality or its flip side of nihilism can tempt any adult as well as political bodies.

A Tory MP has been suspended for spending 8 hours a day on his work computer doing a mathematics degree at the Open University.He has got a B A and was starting a Ph.D before being discovered looking over excited and shouting Eureka by a civil servant
The PM is wondering what to do.I recommend her to go back to Oxford to read Socrates.She will have to learn Greek but it will be easier than BREXIT and better for her mind not to mention us
