My plan was to blog every day.  And I look at my last entry and find it was three weeks ago.  This worries me slightly: do I not have anything to say?  Do I lead a very dull life?  Surely a real writer would be able to find something to write about?

And the answers are yes, probably and maybe.

Reading 'how to' books on writing, one thing that is continually emphasised is the use of conflict.  There must be conflict to keep the reader turning the pages, to show the characters' true depths.  We can all relate to conflict, whether it is something we can relate to or just to make us feel cosier in our lives.

And that I think is the key.  I am blessed with a very comfortable, stable life and so the irritations that occur feel so trivial that I don't want to bother anyone else with them.  I was hoping there would be more little quirky things from the train, but I find tweeting them is more fun.  So, in this case, silence is definitely golden...

The time was passing with the leisurely confidence that there is plenty to spare.  Clouds were still firmly controlling the sky, but she felt the sunshine.