My interest in words that sum up melancholia or human yearning (in a way that standard English just can’t) continues. A Twitter friend (Dr Daz)
When I lived in Byron (writing my first book) I used to drive to my friend Annie’s house in the hills for dinner on Sundays.
Anais Nin wrote this in her diary, between 1947-1955 (it was later published in Volume 5 of her diaries)…”Anxiety is love’s greatest killer”. The next
I read a quote from someone from a book about a book about to come out, somewhere. Said quote touched on the idea of using
I have a theory. There are two types of people in this world: those whose anxiety is primarily based around fretting about what has been,
I feel compelled to share when I’m anxious. Or, more to the point, I feel compelled to share when I find a pithy solution that
Every few months or so I get stuck. I get wobbly or, as was the case this time, I get so thoroughly sick of myself
I have a trick I use to deal with my anxiety that you might like to know about. But first, some clarification. My brand of
I was born anxious. I’ve fretted for as long as I remember. I worried for one and all. Some days it cripples me and I
I am a little obsessed by the work habits of writers. And I love Henry Miller. And I’m very grateful for these little work mantras