Tag: writer’s life

Pause for Spring

It’s been a busy start to the year with writing, painting, and various associated events, as well as sorting out the rest of the year’s calendar. And it’s been lovely to catch those snippets of early spring sunshine, for a breath of fresh air and a wander out into the local surrounds.

While Mia hangs out in one of her favourite spots,

The nearby bluebells are out and the magnolia is blooming.

All looked on by the highlight of Tin Lane: the wonderfully, mosaiced Loft Club.

The occasional trip to the beach for a blast of sea air, preferably when it’s quiet and the sound of lapping waves is pretty much all you can hear.

Or a peaceful early evening wander around the park, catching gorgeous trees in their best light.

Not forgetting the local wildlife.

And on the subject of outings, a recent day trip to the town of Totnes is worth a mention. Nestled between Dartmoor and the south Devon coastline, I’ve long loved this Bohemian market town:

All this, set atop a riverbank.

Not that you need an excuse to visit Totnes, but a friend was exhibiting some of her gorgeous pottery, along with a group who paint and create inspired by the granite line on Dartmoor.

And last but by no means least, actually before spring sprung, we were visited by the moon at Exeter cathedral, and what a spectacle it was. We were certainly honoured to be on route for this globe-trotting phenomenon, 7-metre, scaled representation created by the artist, Luke Jerram.

And finally it’s back to work:

Keep reaching for the moon!!

Wishing everyone a good week ahead.

xx

 

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.

***

A Splash of Colour

There’s a familiar sight outside the window of my writing room: blurred by heavy rainfall, beyond the rooftops of red brick houses, trees are blowing in a blustery wind. While searching for inspiration for tomorrow evening’s open mic, I thought of May’s challenging weather, and came up with my reading: The Story of the North Wind. It’s actually an extract from my novel, The Warder (Blood Gift Chronicles 2). In the book, Suni is a storyteller, among other things, and The Story of the North Wind is a story she tells. It is a fable from the land of Shendi, the setting for my books, and with nature being the theme for tomorrow evening’s open mic, the fable fits in well.

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Transformation

I’ve been busy with edits for The Warder, honing in on the detail, polishing, steadily working towards publication. There’s a theme running throughout this novel: Transformation.

Prior to publication of Return of the Mantra, brainstorming book cover ideas with the publishers, I came across Adinkra symbols from West Africa. It’s not an idea we went with, but I surprised myself, managing to reduce a story to one word. I have three stories so far in the series, Blood Gift Chronicles:

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Staying Connected

I’ve always felt like a citizen of the world, now more than ever with the growing threat of coronavirus. In these strange times it’s not quite business as usual.

During lockdown, I am grateful that the weather is being kind, and feel lucky that we live where we do, just a stone’s throw away from the river Exe. Remembering all the things I am grateful for, a walk to the river is a regular feature of each day.

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Female Characters

It’s been a busy few days, beginning on Saturday when I went along to Wincanton Book Festival. Reading an extract from Return of the Mantra, I chose the scene when Suni first meets a mysterious young boy who doesn’t speak. It reminded me of the tenderness that develops in this parent/child type relationship; a relationship that continues to grow in the sequel. Needless to say it was a lovely day promoting all things books, and as I chatted to interested people, I thought more about the complexities of my female protagonist, a girl who struggles to find her place in the world, who survives and adapts and learns to fight to save her homeland.

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Spontaneous

Following my last blog, The Human Condition, I was left thinking more about the ingredients that make life, and stories, interesting. The unexpected plot twist, the random event, stepping outside the familiar to embrace something new, to learn, to experience something fresh. It’s one of the reasons I like cities, or at least ones which ooze the diverse nature of humanity.

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The Human Condition

If a novel was good, would you care if it was created by Artificial Intelligence?

Inspired by an article in the Guardian, click here, this was a question posed a few weeks ago by Devon Book Club, a weekly forum on Twitter discussing all things books.

My response was one of resistance. My exact words were, ‘This is so inhuman it makes me shudder’.

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