I hope everyone is keeping safe and well. With rainbows fast becoming symbols of hope, it is wonderful to see so much colour around. And now, with the UK weather for once being kind, there is colour in the garden of the natural kind. It feels like summer.
Here in the UK, social isolation continues. I feel fortunate to be able to step out for a walk each day, and to live close to the river Exe. On the way to the river, just beyond the railway tracks as dusk approaches, wild rabbits venture out. It always feels like a treat to see them, and now in our house we’ve taken to collecting vegetable peelings to deposit on the walk. Then the rabbits can enjoy an evening buffet.
With the UK still under measures of social isolation, I’ve been thinking about the theme of my last blog, Staying Connected, and all the imaginative ways people have been finding to stay connected to one another.
As a writer, it got me thinking about stories and what they communicate. A favourite pastime when I was young was whiling away the hours in my bedroom writing weird and wonderful adventure stories. I wondered what stories children might come up with at this time, what places their imagination might take them. And so, I spoke to children I know and asked them, ‘Would you like to write a story that I could share on my website?’ I was thrilled to receive the first entry yesterday.
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.
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’.
Tuti Island
Two decades ago, or thereabouts, I was in the Sudan. Last year, after returning my revised manuscript to the publishers, I thought about a snippet from life in North Africa, and a place called Tuti Island. The snippet begins with a walk along the river Nile, where I spotted some boys tormenting a small turtle they had fished. Feeling sorry for the turtle, and possibly unwisely, I handed over a few Sudanese pounds in exchange for the turtle. I headed off down the river, intending to release it, but everywhere I went, the curious boys followed. Unable to find a quiet spot, I took the turtle home, filled the sink with water and stones, and fed it flakes of fish. It wasn’t ideal, but then I heard about Tuti Island, a nearby place which friends were sure would offer a quiet spot for releasing the turtle. So one day I put the turtle in my basket, caught a bus, then a boat, arriving at the small island situated where the White Nile and Blue Nile meet. I found a deserted strip of sand, placed my turtle in the water, and watched it swim to freedom.
I never forgot that island, or the colours and designs the Sudan inspired. And so my recent painting is titled ‘Tuti Island’.
Christmas and New Year have been a series of quiet reflections. Following a year of ill health and loss, it’s a comfort to slow things down, to take deliberate note of the small details, and breathe the fresh air. With its dark evenings, crisp air and sodden ground, winter feels like the perfect time to just take the time, to take stock, to gain a wider perspective, to remember that the moment is now to create what we choose.
As a writer who also indulges in painting, I am no stranger to the blank page, and the blank canvas. And yet perhaps it’s never really blank to start with. We create, and we recreate, capturing moments, thoughts and lives we’ve known and returning them to us in fresh new forms.
The last decade saw my first novel published, the new decade promises more. So much of Return of the Mantra was inspired by life in Africa: people, places, situations I had known, recreating the real into an almost unrecognisable fantasy. The Warder picks up the story ten years on, and by this time it really does have its own life and momentum. I was particularly encouraged to see a recent comment on Twitter from a reader, saying how much they loved the character, Wanda. He was inspired by orphaned children I had known, out of a desire to create an unlikely hero, a gifted young boy. In book 2, aged 18, Wanda takes a more prominent role. Together with his female counterparts they are exposed to a land beyond their shores, and so continues their journey in understanding that the world is not a dichotomy of black and white, good and evil. Rather, it is shades of grey, cause and effect, where personal growth and self-discovery are essential in realising the effect each character has. Not too unlike the real world.
And on that note I wish you a Happy New Year and a peaceful new decade.
My lovely partner in life, Kate, gave me this card many years ago, when I completed an early draft of Return of the Mantra. Writing a book and the struggles it entails has been described in many ways, but I love this idea of attributing it to a tortoise catching a frisbee.
Blood Gift Chronicles is now a hashtag and edits for The Warder are well underway. I’m excited to see the story taking shape, and the characters come alive on the page. I learnt to love the rewrites a long time ago, to keep going with that extra effort to make the story as good as it can be. And so this is where my head is at most of the time, with my beloved book 2.
It’s been a challenging few months, all the more reason to appreciate the ordinary, like walking independently thanks to the support of my physiotherapist. On the many sunny days we’ve enjoyed over summer, it’s been great to get out and about around Devon, breathe fresh air and just appreciate the surrounds.
I’ve never had a problem with self-motivation, which, as a writer, is handy. Writing a story, finding a publisher, editing to the final draft, can feel like an uphill struggle. My first book is published, the second is in the editing stage, the third is on the first draft, and I still live by the Mantra, don’t focus on how far you’ve got to go, focus on how far you’ve come. In writing as in life, I find this a useful Mantra, none more so than in recovery.
