long winter nights

The time of year when on dark days there are only six hours of muddy, grey light and the candles burn brightly. But at O’Connor Towers, the hedgehogs aren’t quite asleep yet and still wanting their supper every night, the dogs love the mud and the smell of the last, dirty leaves and I have a new scandi-noir to watch. With hot buttered crumpets or maybe a home-made pickled onion that bites!

I’ve just started the first draft of ‘Into The Air’ and am drifting into that somnolent state of being in the middle of a book and nowhere else but in that book……

happy hibernating ♥


Author: stevieoconnorblog

I’ve got gypsy blood. At school, they used to read my ghost stories out to the class and my writing just carried on from there. I live in England, but I dream of moving to Iceland, I think I could do some good writing there. When I was little, I knew that there was something magical about words. I was in awe of the library and the books appeared as infinite as stars, each with a different story or world. I suppose that in some way, these stories of mine are versions of worlds. Except the characters have become quite real to me now; they have their own idiosyncrasies and dispositions and quite frankly, walk around a novel like they own the place. It's like they're letting ME in.

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