Posted by: gillarbuthnott | December 4, 2012

December 4th

bananaAccording to John Berger, ‘Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.’

Actually, I disagree. I tend to think of all the possible stories circling out there in storyspace, like stacked planes waiting to land at Heathrow, just waiting for the right brain to settle in. That’s what it feels like when it happens for me, anyway.

Today’s book for which I would run back to those burning bookshelves is Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett. I cannot read this while drinking a hot beverage for fear of snorting it out of my nose. Granny Weatherwax –  my favourite amateur psychologist –  her sidekick Nanny Ogg and Greebo, the world’s most sex-crazed cat, set off for Foreign Parts. Their mission is to prevent a Happy Ending and find out when to stop spelling banananana. Read it and weep.



  1. Okay, if I can’t be Mary Renault when I grow up, I want to be Granny Weatherwax. Why do my children snortle when I tell them this? (And whisper nope … Nanny Ogg …)

    • OK, I’ll be Granny Weatherwax and you be Nanny Ogg. What a team we’d make. But we’d have to come up with words for the Hedghog Song. Dearie, dearie me…

      • Well, Song is Snog with the letters jumbled up a little …

  2. It’s a start, but I think you need to work on a rousing chorus.

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