Tag: poetry

Bookish Autumn Shades

Autumn is underway, with tree crown displays of bronze coloured leaves revealing a spectrum of flaxen yellow and crimson red. Crisp afternoons mean that a cosy writing room can be the perfect place to settle, for the all-important task of tightening the edits on Blood Gift Chronicles Book 3. Transformation weaves through major plot themes, and I’m excited to bring this story to fruition.

I’m also excited by a recent publication of my short story, Blighted Blighty, published in the anthology entitled, The Seam in the World. The anthology is available to buy. Click here. Expect familiar domesticity blended with weird uncertainty, in a story featuring a day in the life of a character facing an unexplained and uncanny fungal sky.

I was asked by the publisher to expand on my reasoning. The following are my replies:

  1. Why mushrooms as your apocalypse of choice?

An organism belonging to its own separate biological kingdom, genetically closer to animals than plants, breathers of oxygen, able to communicate as suggested by the wood-wide web interconnected through mycelium, and in effect able to travel through the spread of mycelium and spore dispersal… And so I thought, in the event of a decaying socio-political climate, a pick-and-mix mushroom apocalypse would deliver a suitably uncanny dose of cosmic dread.

  1. Is “Blighted Blighty” commenting on anything specific happening in Britain today?

Blighted Blighty reflects on polarized political framing, in particular in relation to continued debate over the refugee crisis, and the attempts of the previous government to enact cruel policies, sending asylum seekers arriving to the UK on flights to Rwanda. As divisive politics continue, Blighted Blighty explores the possibility of the natural world exacting its own karma.

In further publishing news, I was delighted to have a haiku series entitled ‘Autumn’ published in a much-loved local poetry anthology, Outposts.

And in other news, conventions have been a wonderful chance to get out and about, meet readers, and join in with discussions of the day. Although, joining WorldCon 2026 online meant venturing out from the comfort of my writing room. This year’s panel topic for me was about the writing process, a discussion that brought together so much of what I talk about with new writers as I go along. And it was also lovely to host a table talk, to chat about the intersections of creativity, and the inspiration behind novels that have been a part of my life for many years. Thank you to all those who came along to find out more about my work.

There is a lot to unpack with all of the great panel discussions, including those I was involved in at a more recent convention in Bristol this past weekend. Writing panels have been a popular choice of late, as well as character development, and how we build the narrative on these epic story arcs. I was grateful also for conversations about the place of wisdom in our stories, from wise characters of all ages, and the well-thought-out reflections we as authors bring. More on that another time. Of course no convention would be complete without returning with purchased reading material.

The quiet of evening is drawing in and so I will close for now, and leave you with a breath-of-fresh-air memory of a day trip to Tintagel, on the dramatic North Devon coast. Steeped in stories of old, among succulent-covered slopes and fabulous views, King Arthur was looking mighty fine, a seal was bobbing and fishing close to shore in the waves, pigeons were roosting in Merlin’s cave, and in further caves along the beach, three song thrush flitted and sang. Lovely, and wind-swept.

Wishing everyone a great rest of the week.

Artistic Inspiration

News from my world of Art, and it was wonderful to discover that my painting, ‘Rural Market’, won an Honourable Mention Award in the 2023 Teravarna Art Competition.

Rural Market; by Susie Williamson

This piece is from my collection of African inspired landscapes depicted in my Abstract Landscapes blog – click here. These pieces are painted from memory, thought, feeling… work motivated quite simply to remember friends from a time I lived and worked on the continent in 1999 into early 2000s, including three years in South Africa.

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

A Touch of Nature

Mia is the in-house monitor for season changes. From sun worshipper during the heatwave, to couch potato, taking to her red blanket when Autumn arrives.

After a summer of family grief and the upheaval that comes with it, summer passed in the blink of an eye or a hazy wave, dependent on the moment. So before all the leaves have disappeared from the trees, I thought I’d revisit a recent outing to a local reserve, lovely Dunsford.

 

 

We’re so grateful to Devon Wildlife Trust for maintaining these pockets of nature, an outing so magical it inspired a poem:

Dunsford; by Susie Williamson 

Walk with me,

You who feels troubles plenty,

Weighed with thoughts of disconnection,

Bring your heavy steps,

Across the swathes of Clifford Bridge,

Spy the magic from afar,

Allow your mind, your thoughts and all that you are,

To embrace,

Open your heart to the wonders abound,

Dunsford Reverse, nature’s ground,

Where coppices grow, regrow, recycle, renew refresh,

Tune your senses to the cool, crisp clarity of nature’s drug,

Eyes wide to the magic like a heady rush,

In this place of vivid tones,

And transient joy through valley slopes,

Cast your eye,

Over crystal clear waters of the River Teign,

With a rushing flow felt deep within,

Your cells alive with the sounds of a watery dance,

Spy the slender pickings of a native dipper,

The distant tap of a kingfisher,

And in a moment your heart skips a beat,

To hear an otter’s indomitable squeak,

You pause,

Beneath the arched boughs of a sycamore tree,

A place of nature’s unity,

Leaves touch glassy water with the lightest kiss,

While tumbled-down steeples of jagged rocks,

Cloudy crystal granite shards defend the shores,

Watched by passing deer from slopes up high,

Through dappling fronds their furtive spy,

Grants a wish,

For those who look beyond the pale,

To where sun and moon cast dreamlike rays,

Too soon for springtime daffodils,

But climb woodland heights for magicked sights,

And long-tailed tits like dragonflies,

Acorns beneath giant ferns like trees,

Half-eaten in this woodland sanctity

Passersby,

Feel the brush of air from a tawnies wing,

The distant sound of a goosander’s song,

Climb through hazel, oak and hawthorn,

Barbs to give a friendly scratch,

While reaching heady woodland heights,

Breathe the view of this vast valley,

Home to bracken slopes and fallow deer,

And know, our connective tissue.