Fi Phillips

At the end of the road where I live is a fenced area of grass. It isn't very big but it houses a family of immense oak trees and a scattering of bushes and rowan trees. Most mornings you will find me there, walking my dog, perhaps talking to other dog-walkers, or just on my own with my pooch. There are roads on two sides of it, houses on the other, and I can hear the traffic and the airplanes from the nearby airfield. This is no countryside haven but it's one of the places where I go to think. It is my inspiration walk. As I follow my dog between the grey trunks of the oak trees, I think. Sometimes, I don't purposefully think. I just let my mind run away with me or I listen to the birds in the trees. I breathe in the air and allow myself to be. More likely than not, an answer will come to me when I'm walking there, or an idea, even if I'm not thinking about anything. I know that not everyone has such a place to go to. In fact, not everyone likes being in...

It's almost summer. How did that happen? I'm not complaining. My dog walks are more pleasant when I don't have to drag the pooch through the rain, and it's nice not to be bundled up in jumpers and big coats. Last week, I finished the murder mystery play I was writing and that'll soon be winging (or whatever emails do) its way to its client. More news about that later this year. This month, the copywriting continues and, after the month and a half of murder mystery-ing, I can return to my novel.  The birds are singing, the air is sweet, and life is good. What are you doing this May?