Ned Hayes's Blog, page 18
January 29, 2017
astreeeaneee:
Each book is a mind alive, a life revealed, a...
Each book is a mind alive, a life revealed, a world awaiting exploration - Dean Koontz
January 27, 2017
BOOK QUOTE:
“The road is covered by jagged serrations of ice...
BOOK QUOTE:
“The road is covered by jagged serrations of ice hard as iron. I pull aside the boot soles that are strapped to my feet. Underneath, my feet are streaked with cuts and dark abrasions. Thorns, branches and sharp ice graved their signs on me unknown, leaving behind a medley of runes written in some strange tongue.”
― Ned Hayes, Sinful Folk
January 21, 2017
“So while it may feel as if the Ministry has fallen and...
“So while it may feel as if the Ministry has fallen and Death Eaters are now in charge, that should serve as the strongest of reasons to double down on our convictions and principles. No one said the Resistance would be easy. And so, everyone, now it begins. Wands up.”
January 18, 2017
BOOK QUOTE:
“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through...
BOOK QUOTE:
“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare-limbed trees. Far below lies the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it.My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place—and now the village of Duns looks so small. I hold up my hand, form a circle with my fingers. The distant village, wreathed in mist, seems a child’s plaything that I can hold in my own hand.”
― Ned Hayes, Sinful Folk
January 13, 2017
January 12, 2017
earthstory:
The Hidden Life of trees: What they Feel, How they...
The Hidden Life of trees: What they Feel, How they Communicate
While I have long loved forests in all their forms, I had never understood them as deep a way until this book enriched me, giving me as close to an inside perspective on what life as a tree might be like as I’m likely to get. Written by a forester with over 30 years experience managing a communal forest in Germany, the first thing it taught me to do was to slow down my perspective on time, and perceive what life lived at a very different rhythm and in vastly varying constraints must be like. Unlike the events of deep geological time, trees still change on a human scale while remaining able to live for several millennia. The tree your grandfather planted remains but a youngster.
Inspirational words from “The Hidden Life of Trees” – part of my inspiration for writing the bestselling novel “The Eagle Tree.”
January 11, 2017
faerieforests:
Mushrooms on a tree by Cheryl
A sighting of...
Mushrooms on a tree by Cheryl
A sighting of Northwest epiphytes… inspiration for my new novelette “Holy Trinity”.
January 10, 2017
January 8, 2017
Was Hemingway Right? Write Drunk, Edit Sober
Created by Australian writing blog, The Expert Editor, “The Science Behind Writing Drunk and Editing Sober” reveals that Hemingway was definitely on to something. Using a variety of studies, “The Science Behind” demonstrates that at a fairly low threshold of alcohol, the brain actually is stimulated in creative ways the sober brain might not be. The part Hemingway got wrong, however, is that at the point of legit drunkenness the quality of one’s writing goes south, pronto. The author of For Whom the Bell Tolls may have built up an elephantine tolerance for alcohol, to the point where he could drink a fifth of whiskey and still crank out prose that would be studied decades later, but that doesn’t mean you can too, Guy Who Wants To Write a Roman a Clef About Working at Gimlet.
Have a further look at the infographic below to see how Hemingway’s idea tracks.
[via Visual.ly]
Was Hemingway Right? Write Drunk, Edit Sober was originally published on NedNote
January 7, 2017
“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the...
“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare-limbed trees. Far below lies the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it.My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place—and now the village of Duns looks so small. I hold up my hand, form a circle with my fingers. The distant village, wreathed in mist, seems a child’s plaything that I can hold in my own hand.”
