Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
One of the sternest challenges when writing a daily blog is unearthing a narrative's subject matter. Consequently, it's not unusual for me to spend part of my morning staring at a blank laptop page, gracelessly slurping on a cuppa until experiencing the aforementioned topic 'light bulb' moment - A notion which I'll only adopt if... Continue Reading →
A topic for today's blog currently evades me. This bloc d'écrivains not eased any by a panoramic scan of the living room's contents, which aren't providing much inspiration during this epiphany barren time. Amongst those items catching my eye are a dozen photographs of family members, a crystal filled wall unit, a nest of tables,... Continue Reading →
This Sunday morning, I'm confronted with an infrequently faced affliction of bearing little interest in writing. In fact, I'd go as far as claiming, as things stand, yours truly would rather consume all three jars of incredibly hot chilli jam received as a Xmas gift than draft this prose. That being said, due to concerns... Continue Reading →
This morning, I'm afflicted by an ordinarily infrequent case of writers block. A rare creative imposter which I'm currently unable to vanquish, despite sitting in a White Rose Centre coffee house indulging in a spot of people watching. A pastime which ordinarily manifests ideas aplenty, but thus far hasn't provided GJ Strachan with any noteworthy... Continue Reading →
"That famous writer's block is a myth as far as I'm concerned. I think bad writers must have a great difficulty writing. ... They have become writers out of reasons of ambition. It must be a great strain to them to make marks on a page when they really have nothing much to say, and... Continue Reading →
I'm inspirationally impotent this morning. Consequently the last twenty minutes have been spent gawping gormlessly at the taunting chaste page in front of me. If you want a more descriptive image of my visage, think Irishman in a maths exam*. * Only joshing my Celtic cousins! Bereft of a epiphany for today's blog topic, I... Continue Reading →
I lack the enthusiasm to write this morning. Although very much welcome, the raising of temperatures in West Yorkshire have exacerbated my current sleep deprivation, sapping my energy. Sitting here in my unlucky shorts (my lucky ones are in the wash after I got run over by a taxi in them yesterday), and t-shirt my... Continue Reading →
In the absence of a desk, I generally write my monologues sitting at the table in the dining area of maison de Strachan. During times of inspiration, I sit enthusiastically typing at speed before I lose my thread. This is interspersed with periods I'm bereft of ideas, when I'll of gawp out the bay window onto... Continue Reading →