Nillu Nasser's Blog, page 7

From Fear to a Love of Clowns

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Photo by Bill Rogers

When I was twelve years old, sleepovers were a giddy affair of crumpled clothing, whispered secrets and superhuman effort forcing sleeping bags back into their cases. Then came a run of horror movies and it seemed no adults really had oversight over what we watched. I expect we were very sneaky. In quick succession, we watched Candyman, Child’s Play and It. 

What were we thinking? I scare easily, and I still get flashbacks to scenes from those movies. If When in the bathr...

Sadness

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Photo by Nick Kenrick

I am sad.

There I said it.

I don’t like to be the sad one. Not that there’s anything wrong with being sad: we all feel like this sometimes, and some more than others. In fact, I’d argue that if you don’t feel sad sometimes then your skin is probably too thick, and you might well be walking around wounding others.

There is something about sadness that is linked to compassion. A sad person is someone who empathises. A sad person feels keenly. Nobody wants a rock for a frie...

Personal Histories: A Little Boy and a Can of Coke

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Photo by Abhijeet Rane

I’m nearing the end of the first draft of Hidden Colours, my second novel, scheduled to be released in late autumn. The novel is set in modern day Berlin. My husband is from Berlin and we studied there together, and sometimes we dream about living there again, but that’s a story for another day.

I’ve written this book faster than the last one, partly because being signed to EP means that I can’t afford to meander to the finish line, but also because with three children...

Sentimentalism in Fiction

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Photo by Nick Kenrick

A very long time ago, I read Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. I’ve not revisited the novel in years – the last time was seeing the 1995 adaptation featuring Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet (and oh, how I still miss Alan Rickman) – but this week memories of it surfaced while I worked on my current novel. Uppermost in my mind: where is the line between making readers feel and being sentimental in fiction?

Double Standards and Making Active Choices as an Author

Being sen...

How to Make Traditions Work for You

This post was originally published in Open Thought Vortex magazine, a wonderful place for discovering new writing.

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Photo by Sandrine Néel

Traditions can be the smallest things. The Spanish wearing red underwear at Christmas. A football team supported by generations of a family. Your grandmother’s curry recipe. Strawberries and cream at Wimbledon. Bonfires on Guy Fawkes Night. Carving pumpkins. Poppies on Armistice Day. The Scots and kilts. Telling stories around a campfire. A bride wearing wh...

My Woman – A Very Short Story for International Women’s Day

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Photo by Lady Orlando

One midsummer’s day, after the seasons had become muddled, I walked in hail to our local park and found a woman huddled underneath an old oak tree. She didn’t have language, but when beckoned she followed me back to my home where I fed her hot soup and told her I would provide for her as long as she attended to my needs.

Over the days that followed, she grew in understanding if not words. Though her own body reeked due to a lack of self-care and her darting, frenzied pup...

On Ambition, Doubt and Creativity

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Photo by Jonathan Emmanuel Flores Tarello

Sometimes I come to a blank page because I have something to say; at other times, I come here because my mind needs excavating before I can move forward. Today is one of those days.

Writing fiction is a strange beast. Readers have an idea of what it might be like: writers working on their manuscripts at coffee shops à la J. K. Rowling in the early days; or the serene novelist at his beach house; or perhaps the hare-brained writer working amongst a mou...

BookBub Results and Hidden Colours Excerpt

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Photo by S. Nathwani

I’ve been meaning to blog for weeks, and before I knew it, over a month had passed. Blogging is like meditation for me. Like Julia Cameron’s morning pages, or journaling, or yoga. It leaves my head clearer, my spirit lighter, and I’m happier when I’m regular in my practice.

If only the clock would stop, or we could squirrel away pockets of time to save for moments like these. It’s easier said than done. Sometimes I blink and the week is over. This morning, our eight year...

On Flow and Just Being

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Photo by Trey Ratcliff

There is something seductive about crossing the threshold into a new year. It’s the same feeling as opening a new journal, or writing on crisp letter paper, or sliding under clean bedsheets. A fresh start holds promise. It’s like a new relationship: full of romance and possibility. Humans like symbolism.

And yet, I am different. More tired. Less excitable. Wiser perhaps. For me, the new year is less about the fizz and resolutions of my twenties, and more about simply be...

Literary Loves: The Power by Naomi Alderman

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Photo by Sandy/Chuck Harris

The baby is a year old, and though he is not sleeping through the night, I’m finally starting to feel like my own person again. This littlest one of ours has had the most demanding baby year, or perhaps it has been harder for us all because he has had to slot into the needs of a growing family. In any case, it feels good to be coming out of the zombie nights and to have the energy to read long-form again. I missed it.

Have you spent Christmas reading? Or perhaps fo...