Susan, Author at Shedwriting

October 15, 2021October 22, 2021

Howl at the Moon

October’s full moon is coming in a few days and it’s called the Hunter’s Moon. How’s that for creepy, welcome-to-the-darkness vibes? And if the sound of howling joins in, well.

I’ve always been fascinated by wolves – maybe it’s Little Red Riding Hood’s fault, but this fairytale baddie captured my heart. Their social nature, enigmatic eyes and predatory skills are fascinating and beautiful. The wilderness in those howls sends shivers down the spine (as well it should).

It’s probably also Riding Hood’s fault that the species has been hunted almost to extinction, with the last wild wolf in Ireland said to have been killed in 1786 (long after they’d disappeared from England and Scotland).

So it’s no surprise that I’m delighted to hear about re-wilding projects throughout Europe, as conservation experts bring back the apex predators. Not everyone is pleased, needless to say, and many farmers are up in arms (literally, no doubt) as they try to work out how to keep livestock – well – alive. But I wonder if we’re also falling back into our medieval roles to believe in superstition and cry wolf.

This enemy has teeth, that’s the problem, and too many are still in our midst with sheep’s clothing. The haunting, hunted creature is also in my mind a lot recently with frequent news of credit cuts and foodbank pressures; billionaire rockets and Pandora Papers. Enough.

The wolf is at the door for so many. And killing it is not, and never has been, the answer.

Shivers down the spine…my reading of Wendy Pratt’s poem ‘Now the Wolf is in the Cul-de-Sac’

October 9, 2021October 15, 2021

Words

It was National Poetry Day this week. Twitter was awash with gorgeous poems – the sheer volume of sentences and stanzas was a bit overwhelming. Because sometimes it’s just one word that hits home. A word to finish a stream of thought that tightens the throat and stops the breath.

Words have power. I don’t understand the alchemy of it but it’s magical. So without further ado here’s the poem that never fails – never – to stop me in my tracks.

The Committee Weighs In
by Andrea Cohen

I tell my mother
I've won the Nobel Prize.

Again? she says. Which
discipline this time?

It's a little game
we play: I pretend

I'm somebody, she
pretends she isn't dead.

October 1, 2021October 9, 2021

Happy 1st Birthday!

It’s my blog-aversary this week – Shedwriting is one year old! The baby blog is learning to walk and talk now. And it’s taking on its own personality.

This thing started off as a way to nudge me into the light. For someone who spent much of their adult life hiding in the shadows, I felt it was high time I stepped forward and tried out a bit of visibility. Pass me the microphone, I stated confidently, I’m ready to speak up. But when the light shone in my face, and people looked at me expectantly, I found myself wide-eyed in shock, and didn’t know what to say. I usually wanted to shuffle back into the safe shadows and take a breath.

But this blog was also a way to hold myself accountable that this writing thing was something I planned to do with my life. My inner critic had warned me to avoid stepping into the light, anxious about people pointing and laughing, telling me it was safer to stay in the background. But I set aside those fears and did it anyway. I suppose the bottom line is that I’ve given myself permission to be a writer.

And here’s the thing: it worked. I’ve learned how it feels to have no views, little engagement and even negative reviews. If I’m serious about writing, I’ll need resilience tricks like this. Most days I’m standing in that light and shouting into the void, not sure if there’s any point. But some days I know that at least one person has heard, and that’s worth all the sweaty fear and trembling that comes from putting yourself out there.

It’s also worked in pushing me to show up and do the work. I’ve been intentional for fifty two weeks, sitting at my desk and wondering what to write. I’ve connected on Twitter (another shocking thing for one such as myself) with lots of other writers, I’ve started a monthly newsletter. And if someone had told me this time last year that Shedwriting would have a piece in The Simple Things, be a contributor to BBC Radio’s Thought for the Day, and have secured an agent, I would have scoffed.

I’m a writer after all. Who’d have thought?

September 24, 2021October 1, 2021

An Irish Bluster

Achill Island sure aren’t you beautiful?

A week in the van in the west – it was blustery. There’s nothing quite like the bite of the Atlantic, falling asleep to the sound of the waves is the best lullaby in the world. On occasion it’s perturbing in the van if the wind picks up (I’ve been known to sit in the footwell, rocking back and forth with my eyes closed, picturing us toppling over at any moment). But being out in proper Irish weather certainly blew away all the cobwebs and opened my soul a little bit more to what nature can do for us. Sand between the toes, hood up, face misted with ocean spray and always, the wind. Wonderful.

It made me think of this poem by Ted Hughes. Best enjoyed in a cosy cabin as the wind howls down the chimney.

September 17, 2021September 24, 2021

Best Laid Plans

For the past week I’ve been living out of a suitcase again and it’s completely brilliant. First my weekend writing retreat just outside Downpatrick and now bumping along the Wild Atlantic Way in the west of Ireland.

I’d forgotten what travel felt like what with lockdowns, jobs and general Real Life happening. Our Big Trip in the van for a whole year around Europe and Scandinavia feels so long ago and yet here I am again, sitting on a deckchair beside Hans the Van, towels flapping in the (not insubstantial) breeze and feeling like this is real life.

So the great retreat, I hear you ask, how was it? Did you get your sample chapter written? Well, it was great and, um, nope. I had aimed for 8-10,000 words and ended up with 6,000 or so. Not bad I suppose, but in the end, the main outcome of the writing retreat with my creative writing group was getting to know them better, and taking some big deep breaths in beautiful surroundings.

Funny isn’t it? You can have a list of things to achieve with a colour-coded (I know) plan to tick as you go, but it turns out there’s been a secret list in front of your nose all along. Generally it involves surprises, unplanned detours, shared giggles, midnight sparklers under the stars and just being. It’s stopping all the hustle. And anyway, what’s a writer to write about if life happens and we don’t take notice?

So I’m pleased with my progress. The Thomas Hardy chapter (a laugh riot, as you can imagine) is not quite done yet, but I know a little bit more about each member of my writing group, and I know a little bit more about what it means to stop and stare at a river for hours at a time.

I’m sure my agent will understand the delay in sending the finished proposal…after all, the working title is ‘The Literary Pilgrim’ and here I am, being a pilgrim. That’s important research isn’t it?