At Home, Looking Outwards

Whilst Staying in the Warm as Snow Covered the Beach

Happy summer days at the Edinburgh International Book Fair 2017

Before I start, a deep, heartfelt thank you to my new subscribers, and for the loyalty of all. It’s hard to get across the sincerity of my appreciation, but I’ll keep saying it anyway – it all truly helps, and means I can keep going as a writer.

I live in a flat that’s part of an old Victorian building. I’m fortunate that I have three large bay windows, including one in my bedroom. I’m still in bed now, having my morning decaf coffee, building up energy reserves.

The snow we had a few days ago has now melted from my road. Despite everything in my body screaming against it, and the threat of cold, there is a light little snowflake of regret in my heart. Locals put up drone footage of snow upon the beach, which also gave me an unexpected glimpse of the road where I live, sharpening my perspective of how close I am to the sea.

The snow inspires me because it makes things look different and yet mutable. I hope this impression stays, now we are back into a new year. Can I be different yet mutable? Different in that I want to evolve ways I can write.

I mean this literally, as much as metaphorically. The Western world is so laden with technology, and, as many others know, this reliance truly does come from a concern with profit driven motives. My handwriting days are now minimal, although this activity is mutable, and I like to see it as a precious act that I normally save for poetry. I’m hurt by statements said no doubt unthinkingly, by writers claiming only a blank page and a ready pen will do as a means for a first draft. There is some sense of privilege in this, and perhaps hypocrisy, not just for me as a disabled writer but also for those who may tell stories, and who have told stories that don’t involve written text for generations.

But I’m already rambling, on a small voice dictation app. I’ve shared information about this elsewhere I’m not going to name it today because we have a love-hate relationship and I’m loath to give the company a free advert when it already takes so much of my meagre benefits.

I am fortunate in knowing a few writers who have travelled the hard journey. Their support and wisdom is invaluable, but I know one thing from them and from others. We have to write first of all for ourselves. Let go of the books that tell you how to, techniques for five point plans, twenty best tips, endless fail-proof theories. And that’s before you get onto strategies for marketing and raising your social media profile. A lot of this might be true and have some value, but in the end you need to know that you want to write. You’re going to write. You have written.

In the last four months I have written a novella. I’m on draft two now. Yes, the main protagonist is a disabled woman. No, it’s not me and this isn’t a memoir. There are touches of folk horror and definitely folk lore. With themes about isolation, loneliness and what stays unseen and unsaid. And what people do when they have no moral compass and live life with a focus for easy gain by exploiting the most vulnerable.

Look at me, I’m almost sharing a synopsis. The rest stays secret – for now!

I can never turn myself off from the outside world. That is never going to be the way of the Penny. There is sickening injustice and brutality unravelling around us. Including an incident in which myself and a friend were the targets of a disability hate crime. Words so casually shared, but directed, along with offhand misogyny – shockingly, within an anti-fascist platform, highlighting how pervasive ableism can be. More on this next month, perhaps.

It’s as if society is a very unwell reptile, shedding a skin. Although I find using animal analogies unpalatable. So, perhaps, I could make this a man-made AI robot reptile beast that needs to evolve and shed its multilayered workings to find something better underneath.

Nonetheless, it’s a new year. I’m here, lifted not by pointless resolutions but a hopefulness that things can be better. And where else can we start but with ourselves?

For me this means more stories. More writing. And more connections. Let me know if you dare to dream as the wind blows hard and the sea is raging.

With love, hope and solidarity,

Penny

Perhaps as a New Year gift, you’ll consider granting me your patronage. A yearly paid subscription, or a single Ko-fi, would be deeply appreciated. And, as usual, shares are always welcome. And do look out for further news over the next few weeks on my social media – things are brewing!