Tag: writer

Eastercon 2023

Reflections of a busy weekend in Birmingham for this year’s Eastercon, an annual convention of all things sci-fi, fantasy and horror. It was great to be there in person, representing Blood Gift Chronicles with readings from The Warder.

And it was a great chance to catch up with my publishers, Stairwell Books, at home with a fabulous book table in the dealer’s room.

As a writer/reader/watcher of these genres, the fact that I love them goes without saying. But it’s conventions like these that give you the deep dive into a world that knows no bounds, and demands that you look harder, root further, for all we bring as writers, and for all we celebrate as readers. I took part in many great panels, which in themselves is revealing, including topics around feminism, LGBTQ+, young adult, older protagonists, and cats – which proved popular for a nation of cat lovers!!! Plus it was great to meet new people, talk with readers, share ideas, support and encouragement, and be inspired by possibility.

It is always interesting to reflect on the power of representation and its role in fuelling liberation, on a personal level with the potential to translating into wider society. Empowered people seek liberation. And then, while standing on the shoulders of giants, (thank you Ursula Le Guin and Octavia Butler, among others) we imagine anew and expand on ideas of possibility. As far as the environment goes, it has never been more urgently needed. Whilst I may expand on some ideas in future blogs, for now, a special mention to the ever-growing young adult market, a genre for all ages, with enormous range, scope and potential. Personally, as far as politics goes, the future depends on young people, as well as an open line of communication across generations. And what better way to share than through stories.

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begins in art, and very often in our art, the art of words.” Ursula K. LeGuin

Speaking of the environment, it was a breath of fresh air to appreciate a big pocket of wilding among the urban, from Canada geese at the NEC, to promising bat boxes. And a special injection of art, with lilies on the water, and a sculpture entitled ‘Beyond All Limits’ by Luke Burton, specially commissioned to commemorate the London 2012 Olympics and Paralympics, and dedicated to Help for Heroes.

 

 On a different note, it was a special someone’s birthday on Monday, and since we were in Birmingham, what better way to celebrate than a visit to Cadbury’s World, followed by dinner at TJI Fridays…

Goodnight Birmingham…xxx

Nature’s Solace

I’m looking forward to a busy week ahead, with lots in store for International Women’s Day, among other things. But first, time to reflect on a moment of peace and quiet with a visit to Dunsford nature reserve. It seems timely to celebrate a piece of nature, with the recent announcement of the Global UN Treaty to protect marine biodiversity. Here on land, and at a local level, we continue to be thankful for Devon Wildlife’s efforts in preserving local habitats.

Last year’s visit to the reserve inspired a poem simply entitled Dunsford, click here. There were no squeaking otters this time around; instead we were treated to a flowering of early springtime bulbs with carpets of daffodils punctuated by snowdrops and wandering robin redbreasts. Surrounded by woodland valley slopes, breathe fresh air and follow the meandering path of Devon’s river Teign…

 

Wishing everyone a great week ahead…

Happy New Year 2023!!!

With each new year comes a brand new book with blank pages just waiting to be filled, and I wonder what the new year will bring. In many ways, 2022 has been bursting with creativity, and it has been fun looking back on some of the highlights.

Most recently, it’s been wonderful to see my piece, Desert Flower, exhibited with Art Show International.

I often think that the process of creating my intricate, hand-painted mosaics, is as much a part of the art as the end result, and this one holds particular personal significance, as it was painted while staying with my dad when he was ill. The patience involved in the painstaking process of painting mosaic effect is something I know he would have appreciated. Art is significant, in all its forms. The smallest book can be the greatest gift. A painting can hold a world. Desert Flower was inspired by the deserts of Sudan, which I maintain great fondness for, from when I lived there many years ago. It’s a place that inspired another painting, Tuti Island. Deserts and the life I found there, also find their way into my stories:

‘The line of the horizon transformed into great mountainous peaks, cloaked in shades of orange with the setting of the sun. It was almost dark by the time we reached the first slopes on a path that abruptly grew steep. In the shadow of splintering crags and sheer cliff faces we meandered narrow paths, the soft thumps of the camels’ padded feet, and occasional whip cracks echoing around deep canyons. Like the desert, this was a barren landscape. I thought of the stories I had grown up with, thought of the picture my great grandmother had painted, and imagined a time when people had climbed these same mountain passes on a pilgrimage, imagined their footsteps still echoing where camels now trod.’ Return of the Mantra

My life is also enriched by the creative endeavours of others, in all its artforms, which in turn inspires me to continue finding routes to share my own. My re-kindled passion for poetry saw me invited to be featured poet for the night at a local favourite open mic event, which was great fun.

And of course it has been great to get out and about with my books, Blood Gift Chronicles, either in person, or online (thank you Covid!). And, as is customary, the new year will begin with scheduling for more, so plenty to look forward to.

In contrast, it’s always good to take the time for some R&R and a breath of fresh air. I’ll leave you with some photos of a recent trip to Haldon forest, where scores of real-life Xmas trees live, watched over by a robin or two.

Wishing Everyone a Happy, Healthy & Peaceful New Year…

xxx

Winter Hues

Winter has arrived, crisp, cold, and muted blue/grey skies with a strange white sheen that makes you wonder, is there snow on the horizon?

Either way, it’s time to hunker down, and hibernate with a good read, and a manuscript in progress. And I have to say, I’m loving the magic of Blood Gift Chronicles Book 3, a book that slips into different time periods, with overlapping lives as we move towards answers to the big question… I love a good origin story, and I love magic, so here goes. And with new societies and landscapes there’s much to get my teeth into. Finally, I get up close and personal with the elusive Evren, a woman who doesn’t fit, but who lives dangerously unapologetically.

Read more →

Quiet Contemplation

It has been a long and productive day on catch up with emails and various admin tasks, mostly in relation to up-and-coming events and conventions. Countdown has begun for WorldCon, the 80th World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago – thanks to Zoom I will be attending from the comfort of my writing room.

I’m looking forward to taking part in more panels and readings at WorldCon and other events coming soon. There’s certainly no time like the present to hone in on some of the subjects that strike a chord for me in reading and writing: intersectional feminism and queering the genres, non-conforming women warriors, challenging stereotypes, power dynamics, worldbuilding and the societies and creatures that inhabit them. I could go on…! It will be wonderful to share thoughts and ideas, be inspired, and add to that all-important reading list that never seems to diminish. Magic, literally magic!

In the meantime, around home are colourful corners for quiet contemplation. With more recent artwork to hang, I’ve been discovering unexpected partnerships between portrait and abstract mosaic landscape.

For further afield moments of calm, I feel grateful to have a river close by. Last Saturday involved a day’s cycling trip downstream as far as the sea, seeing the changing flow and feeling refreshed as the ocean’s vast expanse takes shape.

Yesterday evening, in need of a quiet moment and a big breath of fresh air, we took a meandering amble along the river, catching a riverside scene basking in a golden glow, before resting a while in Belle Isle park, where the weeping willows drape feathery tendrils against the riverbank.

Wishing everyone a good weekend ahead.

Stepping Out

I often make a point of getting out and about, appreciating the surrounds, finding calm in nature, inspiration in creativity, and optimism in colour. A recent visit to Stone Lane gardens was oozing in nature, creativity and colour. An enchanting woodland gardens on the edge of Dartmoor, famous for its Birch and Alder trees, and home to a collection of inventive sculptures, as well as giant rhubarb leaves (or at least I think so).

Another wonderfully colourful outing was an accidentally well-timed visit to Tiverton canal, where we were fortunate enough to meet the old shire horse, and resident collie of the horse-drawn barge, all set against a perfectly idyllic riverside backdrop.

There have been a few trips recently, delving into the countryside, looking for places to offer quiet, contemplative calm. And there is a reason for this, after being hit with the tragic death of my wife’s lovely mum, Ruth. It was of course a tragedy for Kate and all the family, and a loss that reverberated throughout the Royal Devon and Exeter hospital, since, like Kate, Ruth worked there as a nurse for many years.

#nursinglegends

We were comforted by the fact that Ruth died peacefully in the intensive care unit. Since my own hospital stay in 2019, I had gifted the unit with one of my paintings, and while waiting in the family room for news of Ruth, it was a comfort to see familiar artwork.

Throughout this time, it has been food for the soul to step out into nature, whether to the granite tops of Darmoor’s Haytor:

Or the tranquil fields of Dart’s farm:

Or closer still to home, along the banks of the river Exe, where sight of an old red telephone box filled with flowers, went some way to lift the spirits.

Wishing everyone a good and peaceful week ahead.

xxx

The Magic of Fantasy

It’s been a week of furniture building and the house being upside down, including, shock horror, my writing room being out of action, and bookshelves out of reach. Among plenty of sorting and cleaning, I made progress on a latest painting project, more on that another time. And for solace, I thought of some of my favourite characters from fantasy fiction.

Any here that you recognise?

 

Rooted in the imagination, the inventive genre of fantasy knows no bounds. And soon, soon I’ll be back on Book 3 of Blood Gift Chronicles. And I’m looking forward to it, seeing how the world further expands bringing new landscapes, new people, new vivid sensory images to delight, appal, and offer up a spot of virtual travelling. We all have some favourite story places. I would gladly visit the lands of Patricia McKillip’s The Forgotten Beasts of Eld, and share a meal with Sybel in her cottage on Eld Mountain, watched by her weird and wonderful menagerie called by wizardry. Or a visit to the remote deserts of apocalyptic Sudan, in Nnedi Okorafor’s Who Fears Death, and meet with Onye, a powerful, gifted, flawed, steadfast young woman. I can still hear the sound of her singing voice communing with the desert.

George R.R. Martin said, ‘We read fantasy to find the colours again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs sirens sang.’

Yes to all of the above, and to learn, reflect, challenge, escape, have fun, and flex that all important muscle – the imagination. Fantasy shines a new light, and creates a different edge. It redefines boundaries and allows for reclamation of landscapes. It offers up worlds filled with adventure, to inspire, offer hope, and teach us that anything really is possible. It shines a light on our identities, letting us know we are valid and valued, despite our strengths and flaws. It emboldens us to demonstrate we can tackle our demons, fight for our cause, and realise a state of peace and empowerment. And so much more.

So there is no shortage of inspiration, in a genre that can extend to the reach of your imagination. I look back fondly on scenes from the first two books in Blood Gift Chronicles: some of the stark environments thrust on Suni in Return of the Mantra, where she discovers what she is made of, contrasted with a mountaintop view where her view of the world will be forever changed. And in The Warder, as the dominoes fall, squeezing characters and revealing timeless bonds, the world extends into new lands where old and new, the mundane and the fantastical, coexist. If I close my eyes I’m transported to the islands and the musty air in the cavernous temple, with the sound of footsteps crossing the mosaic-tiled floor; in contrast to the warm desert winds of Shendi, carrying spells and curses that touch all those with the gift to hear…

Finally, I’m happy to report I’m back in my writing room, ready to explore new worlds.

Have a great weekend!

 

Winter Days

Of writing advice, Ursula Le Guin once said,

‘As for “write what you know”, I was regularly told this as a beginner. I think it’s a very good rule and have always obeyed it. I write about imaginary countries, alien societies on other planets, dragons, wizards, the Napa Valley in 22002. I know these things.’

I couldn’t agree more and while working on the third instalment of Blood Gift Chronicles, the current ‘write what you know’ takes me to the islands of the far western archipelago and the world of mages…

But today, I thought I’d stop by and share a couple of real-life ventures, while taking a break with a change of scene to recharge the batteries.

Crisp dry winter days can be the perfect time to visit ordinarily busy seaside towns, like the colourful fishing port of Brixham, perched on the tip of Torbay. With colourful buildings crammed into the hillside, swans swimming in the sea, cartoon street art and Xmas decorations taking pride of place in January, it’s a picturesque and eclectic place.

Not forgetting the Man and Boy statue, celebrating Brixham’s fishing heritage and commemorating lives lost at sea.

Brixham is a place I’ve driven through and always planned to return for a chance to explore, not least because of the extraordinary spectacle moored in the harbour: a full-size replica of the 16th century Golden Hind. Complete with rigging and crows nests it stands almost in touching distance of the walkway, a close encounter that brings home day to day life in Brixham.

December’s day trip was a more tranquil outing to North Devon’s Rosemoor gardens and a winter sculpture trail. Among woodland and lawns, pathways and mazes, I’ll leave you with what was a real feast for the senses.

Until next time…

 

Festive Lights

Blood Gift Chronicles Book 3 is well underway. I look forward to giving a writing update in the new year, but for now I thought I would take a pause in my working day to share some local festive cheer. It was just a quick trip this year, tagged on to a shopping day, but it’s always a treat to soak up the ambience of Exeter Xmas market, complete with the cathedral looming in the background providing a wonderfully gothic feel.

Then on to spot the decorated trees on-route, since no trip would be complete without a visit to the annual charity tree display – a wonderful reminder of the great work of our local charities.

For the Xmas light display we went further afield with a trip to Powderham castle, armed with mugs of peppermint tea and chocolate brownies to snack on. With the whole castle and gardens lit up like a Xmas tree, it was an impressive display.

But perhaps the star of the show were three orphaned lambs wearing Xmas jumpers, tucked away in the grounds of the secret garden, unfazed by ogling visitors looking to catch that perfect Xmas card shot.

For now it’s back to work, but in the meantime…

Wishing everyone a very Merry Xmas

Happy Holidays, and a

Happy, Healthy, Peaceful New Year 

xxx

 

One World

Just over two months in the new house and it’s feeling like home. Mia continues to be outwitted by the resident squirrel on its hunt for buried nuts, and I’ve discovered a wonderfully bizarre monkey puzzle tree on my regular walk.

In other news, the street is being put on trial for food waste recycling. In the spirit of every little helps the environment, we’re all hoping it stays. Of course, we need many more big helps, and like people all over the world, I watched the events of COP26 unfold on the news. And so, to continue with last week’s theme of climate change, I thought I would share a recent poem inspired by global talks and the dedicated activists demanding we all do better in fighting the looming calamity.

Fight the Calamity; By Susie Williamson

Are humans really the superior species,

Skilled in reasoning, language, solving difficulties?

Introspection is seen as one of our strengths,

So what came of the Paris Agreement?

Did we tighten our belts, get smart, or continue in decadence,

Turning a blind eye to owed recompense?

 

Cop26 comes round and the truth will be told,

To climate activists around the globe.

The suited and booted leading with false ideations,

Reckless in the knife-edge survival of Africa, and those island nations.

It’s not 1.5 or even 2, but a roadmap to 2.7 degrees,

Yet again, the same nations will be on their knees.

 

Or under water; some are already there,

Vanishing islands and coastlines, but with new gas fields, who cares?

Until Mia Mottley steps up and takes to the mic,

Calm and considered, but with words set to strike.

This PM of Barbados speaks for those without choices,

For the powerless, angry, despairing voices.

 

Her message is clear, her intent at the heart,

National solutions just don’t work.

Are we really so blinded and hardened, deaf to the cries,

So willing to turn our backs on countless lives?

So adept at othering, we seem to be,

Price tags on people, scrap humanity.

 

We talk peace and prosperity here in the west,

A blanket omittance of nations oppressed,

Prosperity, illusion if only one third prospers,

While the rest of the globe cowers and suffers.

In the face of calamitous threats, life under siege,

When will global leaders fess up and lead?

 

Will they mourn us on the front line? Eddy Grant once said.

Not when pound signs are favoured over existential dread.

Voice, ambition, action is lacklustre so it seems,

In solving global crises of climate refugees.

Will the path of greed harvest our common destruction?

Or will we choose survival via temperature reduction?

 

There’s no time, we’re at that fork in the road,

The train’s ready, horn blasts, all aboard!

Code red G7, G20, wake up at the COP,

1.5 to survive, 2 degrees and no backstop.

Just death to Barbuda, Kenya, Mozambique,

Antigua, Fiji, The Maldives,

Try harder the people of Samoa holler,

Don’t we treasure Barbados and the people of Dominica?

Tuvalu is sinking, it’s happening now,

Don’t sigh, don’t shrug, don’t sit back and ask, how?

Central banks work in trillions, too huge to fit in our heads,

We have answers, resources, so make a watertight pledge.

Sign up to the global peace army,

Say no to death, and yes to humanity.

***