Perhaps you can write better if you leave the mistakes.

Reblogged from Poets & Writers


http://instagram.com/p/m7CngMAGQT/ another sneak peak from the latest photoshoot


Once in a very long time you come across a book that is far, far more than the ink, the glue and the paper, a book that seeps into your blood.

With such a book the impact isn’t necessarily obvious at first…but the more you read it and re-read it, and live with it, and travel with it, the more it speaks to you, and the more you realize that you cannot live without that book. It’s then that the wisdom hidden inside, the seed, is passed on.


I guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.


Wish I could wear tuxedo jackets everyday :)


And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to say a few words about escapism. I hear the term bandied about as if it’s a bad thing. As if “escapist” fiction is a cheap opiate used by the muddled and the foolish and the deluded, and the only fiction that is worthy, for adults or for children, is mimetic fiction, mirroring the worst of the world the reader finds herself in.

If you were trapped in an impossible situation, in an unpleasant place, with people who meant you ill, and someone offered you a temporary escape, why wouldn’t you take it? And escapist fiction is just that: fiction that opens a door, shows the sunlight outside, gives you a place to go where you are in control, are with people you want to be with (and books are real places, make no mistake about that); and more importantly, during your escape, books can also give you knowledge about the world and your predicament, give you weapons, give you armour: real things you can take back into your prison. Skills and knowledge and tools you can use to escape for real.

As JRR Tolkien reminded us, the only people who inveigh against escape are jailers.

Reblogged from Read in order to live.


Red morning light, Tunnel Maida Vale