Oh God. I can't think of a single word to write.
Unblocking Writer’s Block
Oh God. I can't think of a single word to write.
Our Father
I wrote this story after someone close to me had died. I held this person's hand as they passed. I wanted to capture the profoundness of that moment. When I was little, just before bedtime, my mother used to wrap me in my dressing gown and take me outside to see the stars. “Who made them?”…
Want to be a Better Writer? 3 Vital Tips
I've lost count of the number of websites/blogs/books/articles instructing aspiring writers on how to learn their craft and be better at it. I suspect it's easier to spend your time reading all this advice and solemnly nodding your head in agreement than it is to actually do the hard yards in front of your computer…
small talk
you tell me I'm beautiful i say the same you wake up beside me then ask me my name that's small talk, nowadays
The Belfast Question
This story is based on something that really happened to me to when I went back to Northern Ireland in my 20s. I was born there, and my family shifted to New Zealand when I was four. My father was a Presbyterian minister in Country Armagh (termed “Bandit Country” in 1975 by then Northern Ireland…
Two
I scribbled this down when my daughter turned (you guessed it) two. Three years on, I still note down the funny things she says and does. Every year on her birthday I write her a love letter, including many of those notes in it. I talk about the past year and what she has done; how…
The Riches of Love
I wrote this poem in the late '90s. It was published in The Collection of New Zealand Poetry & Prose, 2001. I originally called it "The Troubadour" because it felt more like a song than a poem to me. Then I realised that the song was being sung by a woman - and a female troubadour…
Patricia Bell, Author 