Some authors say writer’s block is just flat batteries. I agree, but sometimes, no matter how hard you try, those damn words glue themselves to the inside of your head and refuse to play ball. When this happens thank your lucky stars you’re a writer, not a glassblower. The latter is chained to their shed or studio.

All you need is a laptop and $5 for coffee.

Move your office. Choose a cafe with a brilliant view. Write in the park. I’ve even taken a notebook out to the trampoline and jumped about like a doofus while the kids are at school. I tell you, five minutes of that and thoughts start to  zing around your head like sherbet on the tongue. And it’s cheaper than cigarettes.

If you’re in a rut, shift your headspace. Literally. Do whatever works. You’ll be surprised what lurks beneath.

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I spoke to a great group at Stanley Bay Primary yesterday. As usual, kids this age (years 4,5 and 6) are full of life, energy and awkward questions. I told them about Malcolm McGarvy (the bully in my novel ‘Shot, Boom, Score!) who has a few tricks up his sleeve. One of which is the chicken made from a tea towel; the other is a penguin made from a banana.

The speech went well and Fiona and the team thanked me. When I jumped in the car to drive home I was sure I smelt something. Something sweet. Yet slightly rotten. Something…like the banana I used for my talk a month ago at Birkenhead Primary. (You’re just lucky this isn’t Smelevision.)

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