My Confession

My Confession In the hush of a Catholic church in Italy, surrounded by the light of holy candles and ancient relics, I had a moment of quiet reflection and meditation. I was looking for answers. I’d just finished writing Amazing…

My Confession In the hush of a Catholic church in Italy, surrounded by the light of holy candles and ancient relics, I had a moment of quiet reflection and meditation. I was looking for answers. I’d just finished writing Amazing…

‘Would you like a digestif? Limoncello? It’s on the house.’ The waiter, dressed impossibly tight, black jeans, white-tight t-shirt, thick leather belt, ankles bare above leather loafers, hipster beard, sculpted hair—you get the picture—tilts his head and we shrug a…

The Music of Life: Writing in Italy The pop of a cork from a Prosecco bottle. Soft, murmuring Italian voices. Cucina. Mangiare. Si Grazie. Bene. Words, food, sharing, friendship in a bookshop café in Florence. My friend and I sit…

There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Shauna Niequist I call myself a writer, but I haven’t written anything in the last two weeks. Travelling in Italy…

Have you ever walked into a room and felt naked? Have you ever shown anyone something you created and cringed? Have you ever felt like running away and hiding in shame? Being a creative person means being vulnerable enough to…

It was 9am on the 26th of February 2010. I sat down at the kitchen table with a coffee and my notebook. I had an idea—an idea that I wanted to write a novel. I’d met a character in my…