Tag Archives: #creativity

Longhand vs typed

Which is better for your creativity – writing longhand or typing on a computer?

I’ve long been an advocate for writing everything longhand (including the first draft of this blog), largely because I can write faster than I can type. Seven novels in and my typing sucks!

Recently, I’ve been doing an online course (more on that another time) and the topic came up in one of the lessons. University studies have shown that expressive or creative writing done by hand uses more parts of the brain than typing on a computer. FACT!

This same lesson also confirmed another point that I have taken some stick about over the years. The notebook that you choose matters as does the pen or pencil. I’ve been arguing this point for years.

Again, studies have proven that if the person is attracted to a particular notebook, then they are more likely to write freely in it. Still not sure where the ones that are “too good to use” fit into that equation. If someone has also found a pen or a pencil that they are drawn to then you have the perfect recipe for creativity and expression.

I’ve been laughed at before for admitting to changing pens to overcome writer’s block. More than once I’ve declared that I’ve stuck with a certain pen because the words flow freely from it.

I’m not the only author to prefer handwriting their work. Not for a second do I claim to be in the same league, but George RR Martin of Game of Thrones fame hand writes his novels. The first Harry Potter book was famously handwritten partly in a café in Edinburgh by JK Rowling. Stephen King also hand writes his stories and commented in an interview once that handwriting his books “brought the act of writing back to this very basic level where you actually have to take something in your fist and make letters on the page.”

That’s something that I have marvelled at many a time when I look at my own books. These real books were conceived in my mind and brought to life in A4 notebooks written in a variety of colours. (I prefer pink or turquoise and especially purple.)

Now, I appreciate that this is the 21st Century and technology runs the world and that some people hate to handwrite anything but the next time you fee; the urge to write a poem or tell a story or journal your thoughts, try writing the old-fashioned way and see where those thoughts take you to.

An uninvited AI guest…..

A new icon popped up on my laptop uninvited recently. You’ve probably seen it on your laptop too. Co-pilot….

Did I ask for an AI assistant?

Do I have any need of an AI assistant who seems hell bent on helping me write a sentence?

NO!

This uninvited guest is a threat to human creativity, in my humble opinion.

As a self-published indie author, this uninvited guest is also a silent threat to my career as an author.

I publish via Amazon’s KDP platform who have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to AI assistance so why would I want this “co-pilot” functionality anywhere near my creative work?

And can I remove it from my laptop? No, as far as I can tell. I have managed to turn it off but to be frank, I do not want it there even sleeping in the background. Suggestions on how to evict this uninvited guest gratefully received!

I’m not claiming to be the best author in the world but one thing I will guarantee for as long as I can string a sentence together, it will be my words, my sentence, my paragraph, my chapter and my manuscript and not something dreamt up or proposed by some uninvited AI bot!

Now, where’s my fountain pen and ink?

(image sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

The Measly Jar of Motivation – the feeling of anticipation

I sat down to write this week’s blog savouring the feeling of anticipation of a creative spurt.

I hoped to seek joy in the words I would write.

I sat, pencil in hand, staring at the blank page.

I sat poised to write.

I waited……

And I waited……

And I’m still sitting with the feeling of anticipation as I wait for the words to begin to flow….

Fragments

Over the past few days I’ve been taking part in an online winter writing sanctuary. There are still a few days to go but the assignments have been fun. I thought I’d share this one with you.

Snuggling into the sanctuary of my fur-lined hood, I set off on my early evening meander. Thoughts, some more random than others, flit by as I walk. Slowing my breathing, I calm my frazzled mind by whispering my Reiki precepts to myself as I walk down the hill at a leisurely pace towards the river.

It’s blue hour. It’s quiet. The tree at the foot of the hill stands tall, its branches bare. It reminds me of the cover of Shinedown’s Leave A Whisper album. Good album that.

My mind wanders to an unanswered What’s App from earlier…. wonder what my friend is doing right now? I wish they were walking beside me. Been a while since I’ve seen them. Need to sort that…

The patches in the tarmac pavement trigger imaginative thoughts. What if each separate patch led you into an alternative world? ..a bit like worlds that Will cuts into with the subtle knife in His Dark Materials. I’ll need to find time later to watch the final episode of that…. The books were better.

The pampas grass that grows beside the pavement catches in my hood. I trail my gloved fingers through the leafy fronds. I wonder if the pink pampas grass I’ve lovingly tended from seeds to mature plants will ever bear pink fronds? Time will tell, I guess…

A queue of cars lines the road. The drivers impatiently wait their turn to enter the crowded ferry terminal to catch the boat across the river. Where are all these people going? Where have they been? Have they had a long day? A good day? Or are the just desperate to get home for dinner? Dinner…what to cook? Not much choice left in the fridge. Breaded chicken, chips and beans? Sounds like a simple plan.

Turning for home, I feel the wind in my face, its icy chill stinging my cheeks. Dodging the puddles on the pavement, I gaze upon the Christmas lights that twinkle in the houses to my left. Some white. Some colourful. Some tasteful. Some…well, let’s leave that thought there.

When I reach the turn off to head back up the hill, my steps falter and I sigh. My heart’s heavy. I take my time walking up the long drag of a hill, wondering if there are any deer watching me as I pass by the small area of woodland. Drops of rain are falling now. Nature’s tears. Home beckons.

Warmth envelopes me as I step inside. My meander complete for another day. Each walk is a kaleidoscope of thoughts, hopes, regrets and dreams…the unspoken colours of the day.

On this day in 2013, it all began….

Happy 9th birthday to my blog!

As I step cautiously into its 10th year (eek!), I thought I’d reflect on 9 lessons learned so far during this creative journey.

  1. It is possible to write and self-publish that novel that’s been living inside you for years. (I wouldn’t have believed that back in 2013 but I do now- 7 books later)
  2. There’s something to be gained and/or learned from each and every review and comment on your creative work. (Yes, even from the less than positive experiences.)
  3. Despite my initial fears, it is possible to find something to blog about once a week every week. (So far so good!)
  4. Embrace technology and social media. Back in 2013, I never for a second thought I’d have .co.uk after my name, stars after my books worldwide on Amazon or have a podcast (Ok its an electronic voice reading the posts not mine – one step at a time!)
  5. Believe in yourself. (Friends- stop sniggering! Yes, it took longer than it should have done for me to learn that lesson.)
  6. Be curious. Blog topics over the years have come from all manner of sources, including the label on the wine we had with dinner one night ( This one – just in case you were curious 19 Crimes…. and a glass or two of wine | Coral McCallum)
  7. Don’t be afraid to experiment with your creativity. I’ve used this blog as a proving ground for many diverse ideas, genres and characters over the years.
  8. Support other creative souls. It takes a certain amount of courage to expose yourself creatively to the world so show your support for others who have taken that leap of faith. Guests are always welcome here.
  9. Have fun! Creativity should be fun (well, most of the time)

I couldn’t have made it this far along the way without your love and support. Every blog you’ve read, every book you’ve bought, every person you have told about the books and/or blog – every single word helps to fuel the fires of creativity and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Another year is drawing to a close so I’ll seize this opportunity to wish you all the best for the new year when it arrives. May 2023 be kind to us all.

Love n hugs

Coral xx

(image sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

Just write!

I’m pretty sure that I’ve blogged along a similar theme in the past but bear with me.

Last week I shared Book Baby 7 aka Riley’s front cover with the world. (Here it is in case you missed it – Riley…..cover reveal | Coral McCallum) The reaction to it has been great so thank you but here comes the confession… the story still isn’t quite finished yet. Oops!

I’m not a million miles away from being finished. I mean, what’s a few thousand words between friends?

For me, writing timescales are quite fluid. Writing happens when it happens. The joys of being an indie author. The only person setting word count targets and manuscript deadlines for me is me. And, you know what, that works for me just now.

Creativity is something that’s always there. Even when I’m not actively creating/writing something, there’s that wee part of my brain whirring away with ideas/thoughts/potential characters.

Creativity is also a great coping mechanism in this manic world that we live in. It’s an escape from reality. It’s a way to create a better/alternative reality. It’s a way to express our thoughts and feelings. It’s a way of telling a story.

Humans have been storytellers since the start of time. There was no one sitting in the cave or around the campfire saying that the storyteller needed to stick to a certain length/word count, or a structured formula for the story. There were no paragraph and chapter plans. There probably weren’t that many titles either. Storytellers simply told their stories and over time and re-telling these stories were embellished and enhanced and improved upon or discarded depending on the audience’s reaction.

No one back then worried about having qualifications in creative writing or language or literature.

Folks simply told the stories that were within them to tell.

I follow several groups on social media for authors/writers/bloggers and all too frequently you see aspiring storytellers’ dreams quashed because someone insists that their story is too short/too long, that they need a professional editor that they probably can’t afford or that they need a professionally designed cover that they can’t afford either…you get the picture.

Creative souls are sensitive souls. They need to be nurtured and encouraged. This world needs more storytellers.

So, my message to any aspiring authors/writers/storytellers is simple – tell your story your way and in your own time and enjoy telling it.

Just write! And keep on writing.

And on that note, I’d better turn my creative attention back to my unfinished book baby.

Image sourced via Google- credits to the owner

Continue the Story……

Last Wednesday, I spent the day in Glasgow shopping with my Girl Child. We did the usual mother/daughter things- coffee, shopping, lunch, more shopping. After so many long, restricted months, it was nice to just meander through the shops, masks on, doing something that felt “normal.”

One of our last stops of the day was Paperchase. I love that shop. As a writer ,what’s not to love – notebooks, journals, pens… oh I was in seventh heaven! I was also looking for a specific journal as a gift. As I searched for it, I spied this lonely book lying on the shelf.  It wasn’t what I was looking for, wasn’t what I was planning to buy but it spoke to me… no, more accurately, it screamed at me! I bought it. (Well, it was the only one left and it looked lonely…. and well it had pleaded with me…)

I’ll confess, creatively of late, I’ve struggled. Progress with Book Baby 7 has been painfully slow. For once, I actually have a clear idea of its storyline but putting pen to paper and stringing some sensible words together just hasn’t been happening. This isn’t writer’s block as such but more like burn out. The batteries were totally flat.

As I shared on here last week, I knew I needed a rest. And you know what? For once, I listened to myself.

I’m in the middle of my two-week 2021 Staycation. Week one has been hot and sunny (I love the sun!) and I’ve barely been indoors. After months of working in my living room, I can honestly say I’ve hardly set foot in it for 10 days. I’ve walked, I’ve run, I’ve practiced my yoga, I’ve listened to music, I’ve shopped, I’ve relaxed in the sun, and I’ve read and read and read (I’m on book 4 for this staycation). Apart from last week’s blog, I’ve not written a word.

Having bought the Continue the Story journal, it lay abandoned on my desk for three days before I picked it up and flicked through its pages. They whispered encouragingly…. I picked up a pencil, selected my prompt and tentatively tested the waters….

If you can’t read my handwritten scrawls, here’s the typed version of the short piece I wrote last night.

She’d waited a lifetime to see this view. Well, it felt like a lifetime- a hundred lifetimes! All those long cold months dreaming of this moment. Those endless dark depressing days where thoughts of this moment were the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow. The hours she had spent breathing stale clinical air, imagining it was clean salty ocean air.

As she’d sat on the plane the ay before, she’d fretted that she’d done the wrong thing. Was it too soon? What if the kids needed her? Would the cats be ok? Was four weeks too long to be away?

Despite her exhaustion, jet lag had kicked in. She’d been wide awake in the strange bed at 4am. With no one to answer to, no one to tip toe around for, she’d got up, showered and dressed, throwing on a vest tee, shorts then, as an afterthought, her Hard Rock Café hoodie. Slipping her bare feet into her flip flops, the key and her phone into her pocket, she left her rental apartment.

The pre-dawn air was still and cool. In a few short strides, she was across the worn planks of the boardwalk and heading down the nearest path. The sand felt icy cold on her feet as it flowed over her flip flops. Kicking them off, she padded down the beach towards the ocean.

Gentle waves lapped ashore. Sitting down on the soft sand out of reach of the waves, she hugged her knees and let out a long sigh as the sun started to rise above the horizon. Her pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The creative batteries aren’t quite fully re-charged yet but they’re getting there.

When your words are going round and round in your head…..

sometimes you just need to let them.