Wednesday Words – Goosebumps

Today I am letting you, my readers, speak your thoughts on #8 of my newsletter, Clippings …

The Silence piece had me in goosebumps. This is a strong piece that speaks aloud. The Unicorn story makes me want to hear more of the protagonist. He is like ready to redeem himself or perhaps even deeper than that. I enjoyed all the other short writings and haikus. Great writings Freya! Elisa Choi

Thanks for the latest newsletter. I like your poem on ‘silence’. You’ve obviously got a real gift for writing. The Unicorn story looks good too and well worth finishing. Good to hear your creativity is returning in 2013 and it sounds as if you’re much happier. A Corness

I would like to thank you for issue 8 of Clippings, I read it with delight and appreciated the whole work so much! I particularly loved the poem “Silence” because of the atmosphere it creates and evokes and because of the meaning of silence conveyed through the poem: silence represented both as external, natural and interior dimension. Silence allows us to sometimes reach the ineffable, tell the inexpressible… The photograph on the page is amazing too. C Messelodi

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© Freya Pickard 2013

Being – 14

punk rebelled against everything until there was nothing left to rebel against; I like the raw energy of it

© Freya Pickard 2013

Being – 13

my dream of a giant bell suspended in mid-air above the cliff path, stark, threatening, against the bright azure sky, lingers in my memory in the broad light of day

© Freya Pickard 2013

Wednesday Words – Planning

As the names fall into place, the characters I’ve sketched out in notes and in my head, become 3-D. Their histories flooding through my mind as the colours deepen from sketchy grey and white to sepia shades of fictional history. I see the lines on their faces, the colours of their eyes, I hear the thoughts in their heads. The characters become flesh and blood, the plot deepens.

The intricacies swirl in my subconscious and all the time she stands on the edge of consciousness, back ramrod straight, her green tunic rippling in the hot, desert wind. Her booted foot taps irritably against the compacted sand. Her long hair blows around her face in untidy strands and her cold eyes bore into me as if to say, “Why are you worried about them? They’re secondary characters – you want to write about me, I’m the important one!”

Dracomagan, the cold heroine of my novels, rude, uncompromising, but fascinating to write about.

Intrigued by Dracomagan? The first novel about her is available at Dragonscale Leggings And you can find out more about her at Dracomagan

© Freya Pickard 2013

Being – 12

the way the soil is disrupted as the runner bean seed germinates; it’s so dynamic and powerful, yet when you look at it, it’s as if nothing is happening

© Freya Pickard 2013

What I Live For (why I write)

I dream dreams and want to find out what happens next. I hear voices in my head, discover characters begging for freedom, to be let loose on the page. I believe I have many things the world needs to hear. Plots and stories well up inside me. If I don’t write these things down, I feel like I am going to explode.

I enjoy writing about the ordinary things of everyday life, how special each thing is; a germinating seed, the first flower of spring, the cry of a buzzard, the piercing song of the robin, the sun’s warmth on my skin, a friendly smile. I love to write about fantastic situations, creatures and events. I take the ordinary and make it extraordinary.

I don’t want to capture scenes or emotions. Rather, I want to set them free. I want to make images and feelings come to life, to trigger a response in my readers. Writing frees my inner self, allows me to put into words what cannot or should not be spoken. Writing helps me to resolve things within my soul. I am Me. I write. It is my life.

Today I am taking part in a blogsplash to relaunch Satya Robyn’s writing career under her new name. For more details please visit What I Live For

© Freya Pickard 2013

Being – 11

greenhouse full of dew dripped onto tomato leaves and beading the inside of the glass, damp, earthy, growing kind of smell

© Freya Pickard 2013