booktowrite

Nov 21, 2023 on nebula's photo
Oct 18, 2023 on NaNoWriMo 2023 in writers
Oct 13, 2023 on nebula's blog post
Sep 25, 2023 on booktowrite's tip
Sep 1, 2023 on teehohodka's photo
Aug 31, 2023 on booktowrite's tip

Strange thoughts on a dark day like why did I call my dog ‘Mr. Peebles’ (his real name was Sam). I think it may have been something I read in a book. I think there was a character named Sam Peebles. How long it took to remember that is something of a surprise too and, on this day, the birthday of an ex, I remember...
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I checked out of that New York Hotel room and started to walk the icy cold streets, the wind cut like a blade that had been buried in ice. The only destination I had in mind was the Public Library and that only opened at 1pm, it was now 11am. I walked past a comic shop that looked interesting, opening time 12:00, so I walked...
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A freezing cold day in New York and an extremely long walk… but such an incredible place it is. After a train trip through a winter wonderland from Boston I arrived at my charming hotel – my room reminds me of an English bedroom in a family home – had a shower and then set out for the East Village and the original home of...
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It’s a time to pause for thought. A time to contemplate the concept of relevance and how to remain relevant whilst growing older in a world of constant change. It’s a rare day off today and in a few hours I will board a train destined for New York City. With thoughts of J.D. Salinger, Henry Miller, Woody Allen, the Beastie Boys and many of...
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The captain came over the loud speaker and announced our location, estimated time of arrival, and the weather conditions in Boston. He then went on to tell us that he was turning off the seat belt sign as we were expecting a very smooth flight. No sooner had he made this reassuring announcement and the plane dived and started to shake in violent waves of...
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The things that happen in the secret dark corners of miles away are often unbelievable. Out there, across the ocean, over a fence, behind a hedge, on a bench, in a park, fuelled by wine, a friend might kiss the one you love and it always all means nothing. The one you love might already be married and the friend might have a girlfriend or...
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It was mid-winter in Miami. I was there for a mixture of business and pleasure… the pleasure being primarily a company party that meant I’d be spending the weekend there. On Sunday, the day after the party, I met up with my colleague who was over from France and with whom I had worked for several years in Europe. We went to the beach and...
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I realised only tonight, or captured for the first time, that I have a love for things that are unnecessary. Things such as a little paved path to a door leading from a pavement, enveloped in railings, designed simply for aesthetic beauty. This describes my love of literature and art and why I occasionally fail to see something considered deadly serious in the corporate world...
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The true love in my life has always been, and still is, literature. The creative arts, the freedom to create something of beauty for the sake of expression, this has been the shining light of my life. Pens, pencils, paper, books, journals, libraries, bookstores, stationery shops, words, sentences, paragraphs, stories, thoughts, theories… the joys, the promise, the potential of an escape into the realm of...
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I sat alone in the darkness, sipping tea, and watched the snow fall outside. I’d just arrived home from a night out in Harvard with a small group of scientists – German, Italian, Colombian and English. It was a good night but I didn’t feel well and I was troubled by this. It was the night that the snowmoon regaled the world… a beautiful red...
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