On Oct 5th, the GREAT WRITING SEASON OF BETHAN CHRISTOPHER begins. In the build up, I’ve been getting the fear and so, to take a deep breath and give myself a motivational slap around the head, I have taken a little retreat to my mum’s house. My mum is away and her house is in the deep country-side. This naturally provides: Calm space to sit and plan. Fields and hills to ramble in. Uninterrupted time to mull da’ plot, hang out with my characters and try to destress (not distress) about the...

I used to think that my wildest, most audacious ideas came to me when I was drunk. I have since learnt that this thought was very much misguided. You see, I stopped drinking years ago and yet those God-damn, inspiration-howling brain-fireworks just keep lighting up my inner sky. Take May. I was relaxing with some drawing and intoxicated only by the early summer sun and the fragrance of honeysuckle on the warm evening air. Mildly bewitched by the freedom of a quiet two weeks ahead, my mind...

A day or so before John and I are due to leave Ubud and travel east, we’re sitting in a small coffee house we’ve visited most mornings since arriving. The air smells faintly of clove cigarettes, humidity, and earth. Across the road, the woman from the laundry steps outside. She’s holding a tray of canang ... flowers, rice, fruit ... and a stick of dupa already lit. I’ve seen her do this every day, sometimes twice a day, and as we sit there watching her move from the step at the front of...